My Reflections

I glance at the glass
I gaze at my image
I refer my reflection

The three creatures
That are trapped
Within the confines 
Of the mirror

The future
The present
The past
And I recognize none

I have a clear view 
Of my failures to come
Of my worsening depression

I see the small room
With a girl on a noose
Dangling, swinging slowly
Asking "god" why

I face the person
I am 
With cuts on her arms

I see the awkward figure
That is suppose to be
My "pretty" famine curves
The fat I take blades too

Then in the corner
With round brown eyes
Is the innocent child
That I once was

With tears she asks me questions
Questions I don't have answers to

"What are the boo-boos covering our arm? Why are we crying? Why do we frown? What have we become? Why are we yelling? We were suppose to be happy? Where is mama? Where is daddy and Brian and Robert? Why are we alone? Why are we cynical? What happen to make us this way?"

Each time I respond 
With the same 
Dream crushing words
"The world rejects broken goods.
And we
Are shattered."