Cracked Reflection
I look in the mirror and what do I see?
A stranger, a ghost, pretending to be me.
Skin stretched tight on a frame I resent,
A body I wear like it’s paying the rent.
Eyes that avoid, lips that press thin,
A war with the world that’s fought from within.
I paint on a face like a mask, like a trick—
Smile for the pics, then delete them quick.
“Too much” they say, then “not enough,”
One minute soft, the next too tough.
Wear the jeans. Starve the hips.
Watch the girls with perfect lips.
In bathrooms we whisper, compare, confess
“Do I look okay?” means “Am I worthless?”
Pick yourself apart before someone else does.
Make sure you're flawless, or fake it because—
High school is hunger with glitter on top.
Laugh through the pain. Don’t let it drop.
Filter your face, but don’t be vain.
Hate your thighs, but smile through the strain.
They hand us disorders in diet-sized boxes,
Wrap shame in lace, shove joy in lockers.
“Just be yourself,” they lie through their teeth,
Then grade our bodies like homework sheets.
I look in the mirror and want to erase
Every inch, every scar, every part out of place.
But maybe the mirror is cracked, not me.
Maybe my body is trying to be free.
Maybe I’m more than these bones and this skin.
Maybe this war is a fight I can win.
Not tonight. Not yet.
Copyright © Juniper Stanley | Year Posted 2025
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