this is everything i didn't say

seventy-four

we girls were raised to be princesses

to look at every piece of glass

and say, "mirror, mirror"

am i pretty?

am i tall?

do you think that they will love me?

we're only doing what we're taught

by the wicked witches who first told us

the value of reflective surfaces

and maybe put too much value

on the shiny things

because now we collect the sharp things

and laugh at how they gleam

and reflecting more than just our faces

but mostly the parts that you can't see

and i think something must have gone wrong

because i'm less the princess i was raised to be

and more of a damsel in distress

and i'm holding up my broken glass

and staring at my reflection

as the loose shards dig into my fingers

and i'm asking mirror mirror

but all i see is liar liar

and it's reflecting back something i'm not

or maybe i just don't recognize myself

when i'm not the princess i expected

mirror mirror

am i pretty now?

mirror mirror // k.