Shattered Youth

Depression takes over and so I search my soul and my inner self,
Hoping to discover some explanation of a senseless situation.

I look to the mirror
What do I see?
A frightened child,
Please don't let it be me.

In the deepest regions of my confused and cluttered mind,
Are shards of what seem to be a nightmare of the worst kind.

I look to the mirror
What do I see?
A frightened child,
Please don't let it be me.

For years I avoided this reflection because of its unpleasantness
Swiftly running endlessly away from the reality of its existence.

I look to the mirror
What do I see?
A frightened child,
Please don't let it be me.

A safe life, for this young soul, would require a guard.
A rock, a hammer, a fist, thrusting forward
Too hard, too hurtful, too inexplicably wild,
To obliterate the reflection of this child.
And so, I think, I am drawn to a conclusion,
For this child, there will be no more confusion.

Suddenly, the pieces crash to the floor.
The child runs frantically to get out the door.
She searches for the exit and the blood runs cold
As she realizes that it is surrounded by the mold
Of the mirror that she shattered to bits that day.
Destroyed is the escape route to a safe place to play.


T.