The Girl in The Mirror

By Anweshika Mehta

The girl in the mirror, does she speak?

With an exact likeness, she peers through me,

A strange solitude fills the space in between.

Scars seem slightly more limpid than usual,

And her hands, cold as once a dead corpse feels.

The girl in the mirror, does she cry?

Her gaze feels like a sneer,

The yarn I wear weaves a tale of the past,

Unraveling over me once again.

"Again?" the insolent voice returns,

The repercussions didn't even settle once,

for me to decipher my believes.

The girl in the mirror, does she sleep?

Just yesterday, she laughed at my jokes,

As if I were the funniest person,

But today, an enigma.

I didn't notice when tears welled up,

She closes her eyes to let them fall.

The girl in the mirror, where does she hide?

Detaching from the real world,

not realizing when I formed mine,

nor when the demon screeching under bed

Began to coexist with me.

Tossing in the hope of skipping the scenes,

Shatter, shatter, shatter,

And there she stands behind me.

By Anweshika Mehta