I am seen as this girl that has chosen
to be the mirror in this relfection so
perfect,
but inside it's deserted but no one would notice
that the shards of the mirror pierce skin.

She sits and realizes that life comes with surprises
even when sitting being shreaded by pieces of glass,
a haunted past,
she has none,
and her family,
she has no one,
and so she's stuck with a choice of her own.

I am looking at this girl through bloodshot eyes,
yelling through the glass to not do it again,
don't make a choice and go completely mad
and put a bullet to your head.

She stares through the mirror and grins a grimace smile,
an imperfected vanity she is,
so she sits,
loveless in her bliss,
as the shards of lies cuts through her wrists.

Elizabeth Tyease Collins

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/her-my-reflection/