AN: So this is a poem written in a different way, I guess. It's Azula looking at herself, and thinking in third person, when she sees her reflection in the mirror(season finale). She also imagines her mother standing behind her, and this is what I think was running through her mind in that quick, crazy second. That was one of the turning points that caused her to act the way she did.

Wasted Space

Why must you mock me so?

A twisted resemblance of a tender face

I remember when you were young

When your heart wasn't a waste of space

Is it too much to ask

For you to leave now, leave me alone?

I need you around no longer

All I need is this golden throne

Your eyes are warm

Pour softly into the glass

Even through the illusion's memory

I cannot escape the past

You liked him better

I always knew it, it was fine

I say that I don't care

Yet I once wished your love was mine

I suppose I lost that, too

The love I don't deserve

I was wretched, I was foolish

I was unable to serve

Are you truly a daughter

When no alliances remain?

You think you have relations

But all the ties have since been slain

It must be horrible to see someone

Who stands behind you in this dark

When she's only an illusion

But can make clever remarks

Yet it's better to look at her

When she can stare you in the face

She can beg, she can believe

That your heart's not wasting space

Next to her, the illusion,

A reflection's standing clear

She is not imagination

She knows all that you've held dear

Past the glass, past the surface

you know why she cannot smile

She has destroyed her own appearance

There is no more need for style

Oh, Azula, that's her name

My name, now that it's said

Don't you wish that it was over

That these thoughts weren't in your head?

Say it aloud, why don't you?

Let the words ring through the air

Insanity's a fine companion

Since your mother can't be there

That makes tears flow

warmer than your very skin

These tears are but a mask

Of the hate burning within

That hate could rival flames

And has now formed the twisted spiral

Of a life that's turning downward

With a face now looking vile

Little girl, with her mother

Only in the gilded frame

Maybe if you could go back now

Life would never be this way

Is this not what you have wanted

Dreamed of since you were a child

Mother taught you to be kind

Father taught you to be wild

A reflection, on the surface

Of a crying, twisted face

I remember when you were young

Love is not a waste of space

AN: Thanks for reading! Please review if you liked/disliked the poem. I always love feedback. :)