The Pieces of Me
I open my bathroom door,
Clothes on the floor,
I look in the mirror, but the reflection is not me that I see,
But the people I loathe instead.
It’s crazy to think that the people that hurt me,
The people that I hate,
Are the people that make up me
The reason I wear makeup,
The way I talk how I talk and what I talk about,
The way I see myself in the mirror,
The internal scars they left me,
The lament I feel knowing, they're the people I can’t live without,
Their voices telling me how to feel, think, and look will eternally live in my head,
The voices I hear before bed,
And they may never know that they're the cause for the tears I shed,
The psychological blood I bled,
The bitter taste in my throat and ache in my stomach.
If only I realized sooner that I should surround myself with people that see me how they should,
So that I too could.
And now the people I care about,
Are instead the reason I laugh,
The reason I smile,
And the people, that, when in need I can dial,
People that have impacted you make up the pieces of who and why you are who you are
They make you smarter, braver, kinder, and stronger
While the remnants of those voices will forever be stained in my head
To me, they shall be as good as dead.
Copyright ©
Zoey Mickelsen
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