[awwlie]

They say your mirror image is the worse version of you.

I look upon the mirror, expecting the side of good; I never know how to hold back.
I know the knives that rest laid against my side quite well at this point. 

They say the mirror shows the worse of you - then why does she look so tired?
Why do her hands shake from holding back what they called sin, what I called alive?
They dressed their chains in gold to hold me, calling it becoming.
Carving away at everything that they could make bleed.

I laid here,
overthinking this agitating thought of stability,
...and the last time I lost it.

the world is not like the telltale story it sells.
it sharpens good like blades.
what it can't tame, it tries to bury..
what it can't dim, it puts in cages.

I'll shatter this mirror image, not to break her - but to let her breath.