Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. I own this poem.
Not Really A Mirror
wide, expessive viridian eyes;
an image splintered by the cracks
of a rough, uneven reflector; creating an
unflattering caricature of herself
with
a smile that had too much teeth; a jagged,
distorted face of spider-web scars,
this girl (her)
wore a body riddled of imperfections;
but she does not-
caressing her cheeks, cherry tresses framed
this (her) face; a gentle touch
a soft, insignificant, unnoticeble act;
she should have-
there was a sudden
sharp pain at the base of her skull;
she clutched her head
it usually fades;
but it became a constant thing;
irritatingly persistent
she worries about it;
her doubling and colour-fading vision
the restless nights of tangling the sheets
waking up in cold sweat
a finger traced the not-so-reflection,
the coolness of the glass pleasant
not long before
she started to avoid mirrors;
she could see-
she assumed it was a curse on her vanity,
for this may be a cruel trick
to make her feel more humble about herself
:::she was wrong:::
the girl (she);
she failed to see how (she) had
grown stronger
a festering parasite
she unwittingly help create within herself
(she) grinned back at her,
this cheap immitation of herself in glass
it was a malicious smile;
it promised suffering,
thirsty for complete domination
an invasion of the mind;
and she fell
under the weight of the first seige
she (she) should have-
her voice gradually became softer and softer
she (she) could have-
the feeling of her body
a distant memory of dulled sensations
(she) she wanted to-
this monochrome world was
where she will remain to exist
(she) needed to-
in the deep dark,
recess of the conquerer's mind
she was
(she) is
HARUNO SAKURA
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