A girl I call friend
passes a straw
and a piece of glass adorned with a
white line.
The glass reflects my face
and
I
cannot
recognize
myself.
What is this?
These are not my friends
Those are not my drugs
This is not my
life.
The girl who stares back at me in the mirror is
distorted.
Showing only bits and pieces of
herself,
Peering out through powder flecked
residue.
Thin white bars
a jail she can't escape.
Have Faith.
- Mal
- "Tell me a story—a small story, a true story (or as true as you can tell it)—a story from your heart, a story from your life. Tell me of a time when you lost something—your keys, your heart, your mind, your mother or father, your way in the world—or tell me about a small joy you had today. Tell me a story—and your telling it will change you—and your telling it will change me—and such stories will move us both closer to the light." -Lynn Nelson
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