So here is as a poem I wrote.
Just as a little note before you read, this poem is not LITERAL, which means, no body parts were hacked off or cut before, during, or after the writing of this. Just thought I'd let everyone know that I am not an angst ridden teenager. I write all genres of poetry and enjoy life.
But anyway, here it is.
Makeshift Mouth
Staring into the shattered mirror,
I see no hopes or dreams,
only a refection--mine.
A distorted image of myself.
For this cannot truely be my face.
However, this glimmering,
broken girl is me.
But something isn’t right.
I have no mouth.
Reaching my fingers
to an object on the counter,
a tear falls from the eyes of a girl,
who for sixteen years
I have lived with,
but never really known.
The small object is now poised, ready.
Its smooth, shiny surface gleams
by the light of the bathroom.
A dangerous sign of expression.
The initial shock of the cool blade
against my skin,
hurts worse than the cut itself.
Strange irony.
Warm blood flows,
taking with it years of bottled words.
I keep cutting, slicing, hacking,
feeling my pulse quicken; my mind race.
Exhilerated, I put the blade down
and gaze at my reflection.
"Free."
Its my first word.
Its also what I now am--
my definition.
No longer must I feel
as if my reflection is distorted.
No longer do I have to live in silence;
censoring the thoughts and feelings
I have always been too afraid to share.
I no longer have to live without
the most important part of me.
I have a mouth.
True it is makeshift,
but it works all the same.
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