Cold Mirrors
This isn't your normal newsie story, it's really a poem. But I had an urge to write it. Please read and review, because I'm still not sure about it. Oh and P.S. I don't own newsies.
The mirror was her worst enemy But she stood there entranced Going over every inch She couldn't help it, Every bruise & cut
The mirror, That cold mirror brought back those nights. His drunken breath and rough hands his cruel words that stung. She couldn't help but get sucked in and believe every word he said was true. I'm a slut; those boys raped me because I was asking for it. He touched me because I made him. I made mom leave. It was my entire fault. Daddy tried to explain; he said since mommy left, he never had anything pretty or soft. So when I was little and he was drunk, He'd come into the bed and have something pretty. When I was little I was pretty, but now I'm a slut. He said I made him touch me, and no one could love me.
That one day was the worst, the day daddy saw me holding hands with Jimmy under the maple tree. I was twelve. He told me never to come home again. Never again, but only after he beat me black and blue. He hit hard and cruel. Covered in blood I left in the rain. Scared and hurting, I decided to call the alley behind my house my new home. For the past week daddy got drunk and called for me. I still hear his screams on those quiet lonely nights. I left and wandered the streets, hiding in the shadows. I met some dirty men like daddy. Soon I could get money from guys like daddy. And the street corner was my new home. I was not pretty any more but just a shell. A shell covered with bruises and cuts. Some from men like daddy and some from her. She couldn't understand why she did that too herself. But then when she hit rock bottom and was broken, she ended up in the gutter at the feet of Brooklyn. She had pneumonia and he pitied her. At first she was afraid to open up. But for some reason she stayed and he allowed her to. Finally after another sweat ridden nightmare that awoke only them, she told him everything. Now they are together, he says he doesn't mind waiting. He says he loves her. She says she doesn't deserve him. He says that's crazy. She feels happy at some moments. But at times she still finds herself in front of the mirror with this razor. With her father's words echoing in her mind. She sometimes feels like she wants to die, because at those moments she believes her daddy. She would stand in front of the mirror disgusted with herself. Tracing the cuts with her fingers. Not able to stand her own skin, wanting to scratch her way out. When she got that itch, she put that razor to her skin. For a moment she would almost feel better.
Spot would find her on the cold dirty floor and bring her to their bed. Praying she would wake up. And then one time she didn't wake up. She flew too far, far away. She was a sick girl and help was not an option for her. In a small way he was happy because she wasn't in pain any more. People say that when you take your life you go to hell. But Spot didn't believe that was true for her. She was only a girl that had her own little hell on earth. A hell in front of the cold mirrors.
Again please read and review, I wrote it for you all. I would love your input. There isn't a better feeling to me than when I see that I have new reviews. Thank you in advance.
This isn't your normal newsie story, it's really a poem. But I had an urge to write it. Please read and review, because I'm still not sure about it. Oh and P.S. I don't own newsies.
The mirror was her worst enemy But she stood there entranced Going over every inch She couldn't help it, Every bruise & cut
The mirror, That cold mirror brought back those nights. His drunken breath and rough hands his cruel words that stung. She couldn't help but get sucked in and believe every word he said was true. I'm a slut; those boys raped me because I was asking for it. He touched me because I made him. I made mom leave. It was my entire fault. Daddy tried to explain; he said since mommy left, he never had anything pretty or soft. So when I was little and he was drunk, He'd come into the bed and have something pretty. When I was little I was pretty, but now I'm a slut. He said I made him touch me, and no one could love me.
That one day was the worst, the day daddy saw me holding hands with Jimmy under the maple tree. I was twelve. He told me never to come home again. Never again, but only after he beat me black and blue. He hit hard and cruel. Covered in blood I left in the rain. Scared and hurting, I decided to call the alley behind my house my new home. For the past week daddy got drunk and called for me. I still hear his screams on those quiet lonely nights. I left and wandered the streets, hiding in the shadows. I met some dirty men like daddy. Soon I could get money from guys like daddy. And the street corner was my new home. I was not pretty any more but just a shell. A shell covered with bruises and cuts. Some from men like daddy and some from her. She couldn't understand why she did that too herself. But then when she hit rock bottom and was broken, she ended up in the gutter at the feet of Brooklyn. She had pneumonia and he pitied her. At first she was afraid to open up. But for some reason she stayed and he allowed her to. Finally after another sweat ridden nightmare that awoke only them, she told him everything. Now they are together, he says he doesn't mind waiting. He says he loves her. She says she doesn't deserve him. He says that's crazy. She feels happy at some moments. But at times she still finds herself in front of the mirror with this razor. With her father's words echoing in her mind. She sometimes feels like she wants to die, because at those moments she believes her daddy. She would stand in front of the mirror disgusted with herself. Tracing the cuts with her fingers. Not able to stand her own skin, wanting to scratch her way out. When she got that itch, she put that razor to her skin. For a moment she would almost feel better.
Spot would find her on the cold dirty floor and bring her to their bed. Praying she would wake up. And then one time she didn't wake up. She flew too far, far away. She was a sick girl and help was not an option for her. In a small way he was happy because she wasn't in pain any more. People say that when you take your life you go to hell. But Spot didn't believe that was true for her. She was only a girl that had her own little hell on earth. A hell in front of the cold mirrors.
Again please read and review, I wrote it for you all. I would love your input. There isn't a better feeling to me than when I see that I have new reviews. Thank you in advance.