Today I looked in the mirror
at a girl who stared back.
She has bags under her eyes,
and her hair is a mess.
Her lips are cracked
and her skin has blemishes.
There are scars on her shoulders
and on her legs and stomach,
but she's smiling at the reflection
as if she sees something she likes.
Yesterday was another day
where the mirror laughed in my face.
I can at least pride myself knowing
I'm not as cruel hearted as people
I've come to know in life,
nor as foolish with love and death.
I smile at my reflection in the mirror,
even though what my eyes see is
just another piece of broken glass -
I know that I'm just one piece
that will eventually come together with
his own work of art to make
a stained glass window.