I think this has to be the most disturbing thing I have ever written . . . it's about rape, it scares me, and I'm the one who wrote it. -_- Anyway, this was spawned when I was trying to sleep and was thinking about ceilings for some reason. Hence the title. I come up with the first two lines, fell asleep, and typed them up the next morning. I forget about it and a month passes. Then, late one night, when I'm procrastinating from history homework I start to work on it. This poem was written in about fifteen minutes, I went to sleep, and re-read it in the morning. Then I kinda got freaked out and made people read it so they could agree that I'm a psycho. Oh yay. Anyway, I'll stop babbling now . . . just read and review please!

Thrown down, ripped of her gown,
Staring up, trying to not throw up.
And what ever does she see?
There's a little girl lost in the mirror
She wonders, "Is that really me?"

Bruising skin, keeping the pain in,
Eyes lock on, just an ivory pawn.
Is there really anything there to see?
Why, that mirror girl's so hollow
Part of her thinks, "That can't be me."

A harsh kiss, one-sided bliss,
Bloodied thrust, no time to adjust.
Why is there nothing to see?
The girl in the mirror is so small
She questions, "Could she be me?"

Sightless gaze, her own mental maze,
She's left behind, lost in her mind.
Where is the girl who couldn't see?
She's the mirror girl who can't get out
Part of her cries emptily, "That's me . . ."