Reflection of a Stranger
I look in the mirror,
And frown upon what I see.
This person looking back at me
Can not truly be I.
Their head covered
by a disarray of dark brown hair,
Cascading down the back.
Their eyes the dull brown of the muddy earth,
Their face streaked with tears,
And splotched with red.
My hand raises itself to the glass.
The stranger mimics my move,
And meets my hand with their own.
I turn my face,
Refusing to look at the paragon of my flaws,
And begin to walk away,
Praying that if I look once more,
That stranger will no longer be there.
A moment in time passes,
Before I move back to the mirror.
Hesitantly my eyes open,
My fingers grip into a fist,
As my hand smashes against the glass,
Shattering that stranger,
Staring back at me.