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Poem

I sit there, 
  pain pressing the back of my eyes,
  forcing them to leak.
Alone at a crossroad,
  I stand in the epicenter,
  of my own enigma.
This place looks so unfamiliar,
  but the sounds, the smells,
  I've been here before.
Treading through dark water,
  scenes from my past,
  are now my present,
  which is one gift that was better left untouched.
Undistinguishable utters leak from my mouth,
  I can hear them, but their meanings 
  aren't registering in my mind.
"No....stop!....Get off of me...Please....NO!"
  and like a flood of tears,
  the past washes over me.
I am drowning,
  in my own pit of despair,
  my own pool of pity.
A little girl lost,
  innocence corrupted,
  life interrupted.
Moving along, I see a mirror image of myself,
  my reflection is staring back at me
  she's crying.
Inside of herself,
  she's dying,
  hunched over crying.
As if sensing my presence,
  she looks up at me. 
I am speechless,
  for the girl in the mirror is me.
She is the very picture of my inner soul,
  beaten and bruised
  weary and worn out.
But she has nothing I want,
  but everything I need.
Freedom, to be her,
  without shame.
I want it, 
  she has it.
I reach out to touch her face,
  to make her real,
  make her a part of me.
As my finger grazes her cheek,
  the mirror shatters,
as does my world.

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