Black streams of last night’s fun and this morning’s distress

ran down her cheek at a rapid pace,

As she sits and stares in the mirror,

Looking back at a familiar face,

She sees she’s no longer the girl they used to know,

To many changes to keep count,

Some high,

Some low,

All depends on your angle of the mirror,

To her-

She just stopped being inferior

to the opinions of others that once kept her as a prisoner in her own mind,

the do’s and don’ts,

Can’ts and won’t,

The shield had been lifted,

Her eyes uncovered,

She knew she was gifted,

If only they would listen

to the thoughts that flooded her mind

pulled at her heart strings and made it hard to unwind,

Black streams ran down her face,

They tried to convince her that she had fallen from grace,

but her tears took a turn in the curve of her smile,

She realized in her shoes…

They wouldn’t last a mile.