Through the Looking Glass
By Tara Provenzano

 
I cut,
I bleed,
I cry in my dreams.
A sad little girl
That used to be me.
I see her
And dream of her.
That sad little girl
Who can’t see me.
She plays and sings,
Happy and alive,
Sweet and demure,
She’s still young and pure.
That sweet little girl.
I want to hold her,
Whisper calming things,
And tell her she’s loved.
I cringe in pain
As I see The Stain approach,
How he wishes to spoil her.
Something draws him,
That gelding of a man.
I scream and roar in rage.
Feral and untamed,
I want to lash out!
Strike with force!
Hate Him,
Kill Him,
Breathe pain into his body of wretchedness!
Go and throw her innocence to shame!
I wake just as His moment ripens.
My heart beats and roars in my ears
I have no control,
I cry and scream.
I curse and hurl objects.
Nothing I can do,
No way to stop him,
No way out.
I strip and run to the mirror
I need to see me,
Not her, me.
Not a little girl who was shamed,
But a beautiful young woman.
Yet all I see are those green orbs of Fear.
That small cherub face…
Those little rosebud lips of pink….
I scream and the face doesn’t scream..
She just smiles.
And cries
Her heart breaking into insurmountable shards of red.
And blossom into the seeds of Hate.
With a cold wintery soul and the taste for blood.
I blink and the girl becomes me.
I touch the surface to touch Her face…
Cold as Ice and a soul burning as hot as fire’s Hatred.
All is the same,
All is still me.
Straight through the looking glass.