“Who am I? I asked the mirror today.

The mirror gave no reply. 

So then I asked a second time. “Who am I?” 

I was given nothing but a half-hearted shrug. 

My impatience got the best of me so I shouted once more.

“I said who am I?” Silence fell all around striking something  deep from within

I leaned into the mirror searching for an answer but the only thing I found was the face of a confused girl staring back at me. 

Was this my reflection? 

Copper hair, green eyes, and crooked smile. 

Features I’d grown used to though never stopped to admire

I wonder who I look like most and if others ever stared.

Black fingernails, torn t shirt, skirt past my knees

But is this really me? Or do I hide my truth underneath cotton strands just to please?

I bite my lip and sink into a pit of grief.

Have I changed too much? Nowadays I even hate my old sheets. 

After another breath I dig deeper, reaching for the roots tied around my soul. 

At 22 years of age my interests come and go, that’s why I chase the wind. I can’t make up my mind.

I ponder about my future. 

Do I still crave lost dreams or desire brand new?

I know I’m too young to rush things yet too old to wait around. 

I rest my palm upon my chest and listen to my body’s rhythm reminding me of countless broken hearts.

I never learn my lesson running after the next catch. 

Of all the skeletons I’ve kept there’s not one I regret. 

I see I’m stuck between the pages of my past.

How does one escape?

Now jaded I lock the door in fear. 

I allow myself to be stubborn and angry 

I won’t let anybody help.

For someone who hates being alone I’ve done everything I can to drive everyone away. 

I analyze my thoughts, my feelings and my heart. 

Church is on Sunday that’s where I learned to pray

But on quiet evenings I whisper my woes to a bottle of aged rum. 

I can quote every Tom Petty lyric but forget to thank the Lord for giving me each breath. 

My mood ranges from a scale of peace to extreme rage unexpectedly each day. 

One moment I’m painting a picture of serenity the next I’m tearing it to shreds.

They worry for me I know, but I swear I’m okay.

I’m a little lost and confused but eventually I’ll find a way. 

I think. 

Here I am in the mirror staring at my face trying to piece together where I fit in this world and who I’m supposed to be. 

I pick apart every thought until I’m burnt out and worn

With a bit of perspective I feel better

Though I’m still a little unsure

So, Dear Reader my greatest question I ask to you

“Who am I?”