The Girl in the Black Dress

As she dances to her music,
Pointe shoes touching the ground lightly,
Sky-blue dress floating gently around her,
She sees the girl in the black dress
Slowly dancing to the same song
That girl from whom she has been running from
The girl with the horrible, ugly face who
Haunts her in her dreams,
Breaks her bones, kills her,
Tells her she’s worthless.
The studio is the one place she seemed to be free
But no longer
The demon has followed her to her one sanctuary,
There is nowhere left to hide.
The song begins to pick up,
And her movements become quicker, lighter
Her heart beats faster and faster,
Watching the girl in the black dress.
The her mouth opens,
“Why are you still here?” she whispers,
eyes devoid of iris or pupil,
“you are only hurting me and yourself.”
pirouette, arabesque...
"Dead. Dead and gone and never coming back."
It’s too much.
As the broken glass rains down to the floor,
The girl in the black dress cracks and shatters.
Blood drips from the girl’s hand
Where she smashed the mirror with her fist.

The question, as she holds a long shard of glass,
is,
What do I do now?

“A depression so real, a sickness so true.”