Today marks as another day of my empty life, where time flew by with the speed of a racing car. All I have now is nothing other than a still water, that will get poisoned by just one touch. 

I’m afraid to look up in the mirror to see the person I’ve become. Is this really me? I wear my make up and have perfected my eyeliner every single day… But I wonder, can only I see the scars on my face? The scars all over my body? 

The huge wounds, some healing and some are fresh and it burns my flesh. I’m not crying. I promise. My tears have been soaked up by my eyes, because I need to see me. I need to see the person I’ve become. 

It’s a sense of humiliation, and feeling sorry for my own self. I look at the mirror and see how unhappy I am with the person I am. My looks, my pain filled eyes, and my eyebags in the colour of the night. 

I’m in a desperate need for the love for myself and everyday, I look up to the god damn mirror to see if today I can smile. But the girl inside is not smiling. She is just quiet and looks at me with her brown eyes, trying to comfort me, telling me she knows. 

She knows the impossible pain there is, the pain life has given, the pain that has raised her, bent her and broke her. 


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