Mirror, tell me
What is my reflection?

I remember the time when I played with you
In the playground, where you danced;
You, a kiddy mirror, changed my image,
And I laughed.
Was I so indifferent about my ugly image?
I shake my head at how
I thought the world was a playground;
I sigh and wish to feel how I did when I was a girl,
When I had no worries,
And I laughed.

But now I cry.
I try to turn you to change my reflection,
To see myself better,
prettier,
skinnier.
But no matter my clothing,
What makeup I use,
I know that my appearance doesn't represent who I am,
And you will turn again to an image I don't like.
We can choose to turn you,
To see what we want,
To be what we want,
But you can never change the naked bodies,
The naked identities,
The naked truth.

Who am I?
I ask you, but you don't give me an answer,
Only my image.
I start to shout:
Who am I?
Who am I?
Who am I?
I hit you and you break.

I walk away,
Confused – clear
Intangible – understood,
Destroyed – intact,
While your broken pieces frustrate me

I pick up one of your pieces and cut my fingers.
While my blood runs, I see my reflection,
And it tells me who I am:

I am human,
I am unique,
I am beautiful.