Broken Mirror

Take off the mask,

sweet thing.

I can see you,

lying through your teeth.

You think that you’re hiding,

but it’s right there on your sleeve.

Every ounce of you

is suffering.

It must be exhausting,

covering every inch I see,

when makeup only goes

skin-deep.

Under the surface,

beneath the blush on your cheek,

is a smile that’s crying:

You’re strong, not weak.

I look in the mirror,

and what do I see?

A broken reflection

staring back at me.

I take off the mask;

tears roll down my bare skin.

Come sunrise tomorrow,

I will do it all again.

Maybe one day

I will learn how not to hide,

but my soul is too raw,

so now’s not the time.