DESCRIPTION
My poem...this is my most personal one. It really deals with the issues of girls today and thier low self confidence levels causing them to do harmful and unhealthy things to themselves. [811 words]
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
I am fairly young and am an aspiring writer....I think it's all you need to know. [December 2006]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (1) Intro To My Novel (Novels) Its my creative twist of The Phantom of the Opera and Pride and Prejudice. It is only an introduction to my novel, the real suspense has not even begun! It'll seem like a lame british bit to some peop... [19,207 words] [Literary Fiction]
Ghost With The Pink Razor Jenelle Marie Dayton
Ghost With the Pink Razor
One day when I looked in the mirror,
There really was nothing to see,
No small spark of clear recognition,
Assuredly no sign of me.
I scratched my head and wondered, “Why?”
Yesterday my sides were throbbing….I remember….
Did I die?
Perhaps this is only a nightmare,
A delusion of grief and despair……
But I pinch the parched skin on my body,
And shake my little bitty head…I’m just not really there.
Eyes….these ugly eyes, they’re as pink as cotton candy,
And filled with tears,
I listlessly stare into the reflection I don’t understand,
I don’t understand it because…..well…..it’s not me!
This skin that I’ve laid these unfamiliar hands on,
It’s got shades of white like a ghost of myself I’ve never seen,
Crying, “God help me!”
This girl doesn’t seem to belong….
Who is she? Really?
The arms I see extended down this emaciated frame,
These arms…..are like twigs….
I gasp as I study closer…..
This girl….this ghost
This thing!
I don’t understand her.
As I look at these arms….well now, now I see her frame.
What happened to this girl, and why is she so skeletal?
Now this is the proof I was looking for,
It’s a ghost in the mirror I see….
Of a girl who once lived a life
But now she’s a ghost,
Who is only perceived by my sight.
She must have starved to death, I think.
For as I lift this girls shirt,
I see these ribs protruding,
I don’t understand….
It’s all such a shock,
My eyes pop wide open…..
I pant like a dog……
This girl is imitating my every move in the mirror.
I see her doing it now.
Her shirt is lifted up and I see her face full of horror,
Her breathing is heavy and her chest is throbbing in and out.
She is in shock….just like me?
Her hands are shaking cold,
I can see her swallowing and trying to catch her breath.
I back away from the mirror and see her back away from me,
Her legs are bony little sticks…..
I don’t see how she holds herself up every day,
And I can see her growing waddly and unsteady.
It like a car crash,
You want to look away,
But you can’t,
The sight is awful,
It’s eating away at me,
I want her to disappear…..
But the more I want it to happen,
The more I know she’s staying.
The darkness of my room is bitter,
I look down at this girls skinny little feet,
Bare….planted into the ground.
She looks helpless…..
And I wish I could reach out and hold her hand,
But as I reach my hand hits the mirror, and I draw it back distastefully.
I hate this geometric piece of glass,
That’s causing me this grief,
It’s feeding me lies,
It’s telling me that I am this girl…..
Because that is what you see when you look in the mirror…..yourself.
I know better and I will not let this object defeat me,
But all the same…..what happened to me?
I quickly run to the bathroom, and grab a razor.
This girl will go away once she is hurt,
And will never come back to haunt me again.
I don’t know how it happened or why……
But she will learn never to disturb me again.
I walk back to my room and see this girl,
Yet now the horror is masked with anger,
Who is she angry with?
I seems she is looking back at me.
I pound my fist into the mirror,
But I barely make a dent,
And my knuckles bleed.
The girl is looking down at her hands, just like me.
I hold the pink razor firmly in my hand,
This girl has agitated me too long.
I slit across the girl’s wrist…..very hard.
But what is this? Something goes so wrong.
Why do I feel the pain?
I fall down to the ground as fresh tears flow down my eyes and blood drips down both sides and stains my pajama pants.
I look in the mirror now, and am disturbed at what I see.
This girl’s arm has a fresh bleeding cut,
Just like me.
I look into the girl’s hand and see it’s covered in blood that dripped down her arm.
Her and I are both feeling the pain of the razor’s touch.
And as I look closer I finally see,
What seems to be an eye opener for me,
Her inner forearms are covered with scars….
Some deep, and some look as if they went twice over,
This new wound was the lowest one,
Far below the other ones on top.
I see spots of blood on the floor,
But some are dried……
As if the came from long before……
I then look up, into this girls eyes, and for a moment I recognize…..
I believe it was just yesterday, looking into the mirror, and seeing the same face,
Mirror, mirror, you enemy!
I suddenly see this girl as part of me.
This isn’t right and isn’t fair.
“She isn’t me!” I scream, “I swear!”
But suddenly, I hear footsteps….
I hear a voice from behind the door,
“Honey, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say.
Just then I look in the mirror,
And tears fill my eyes as I see,
This monster that I have created,
Is achingly, heart-breakingly, me.
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