Mirror
Beth Gibson
Everyday as I rise
Hoping the person yesterday has died
Walking to the glass
Thinking of the person who gets made fun of in class
Praying I will change
Not being so strange
My eyes open and wander up the dresser
Going toward the mirror
Meeting my reflection
I sigh and know it hasnąt changed
I get dressed
Pick up stuff, acting so stressed
I know I will never change
I will always be so strange
Never proud of myself
Wishing to be as rare as an elf
Gone and never wanting to be found
My eyes look all around
Pleading with god
To be taken from this earth
I place a knife to my wrist
Slashing deep and fast
Blood leaking to the floor
I begin to die
But, I donąt cry
I know its my turn
To be different
Now I know I wonąt have
To see that mirror again
