Missing Pieces.

I stare at the broken mirror mounted to the bathroom wall.

This mirror knows my insecurities like I know the back of my hand.

And it was once like I used to be -

It was beautiful and astonishing, bonded together perfectly and staring back at everyone silently, analyzing but never pointing.

And now these pieces surround me. They're lying in piles at my feet and some are nowhere to be found.

I'm screaming.

Tears cloud my vision while I pull at my hair and beg for these nightmares to end.

But the silence never comes.

My pleas are disgarded like empty soda bottles.

This shard held between my fingers is the only comfort I can recognize.

It breaks skin like scissors to paper. Red rises to the surface and threatens to drain me dry.

'Stop it,' my mind cried.

'Don't do this. He's not worth it. They're not worth it. They know nothing.'

But they think they know something, and that's enough.