Sometimes I stand there, barefoot in my nightwear,
The emotion in my eyes, concentrated in an angry glare,
In my heart’s abyss, burns a furious flame,
Everyone around me, on them I pin the blame.

The burden of the world, resting on a shoulder,
Anger coming through, thundering like a boulder,
A river runs, a torrent screams,
Anger’s dance, a relentless theme.

For there is a reason for this never-ending dream.

After school, coming back to the mirror,
Wondering about that someone who’s prettier,
“Mirror, mirror, who’s the fairest of them all”,
And yet, my blank stare mimics that of a made-up doll.

A new school, a new life meant to be,
Back to the mirror, a tightening train of thought choking me,
An everlasting struggle, “Where am I meant to be?”
For every interaction brings with it an overwhelming sense of anxiety.

“How long is this meant to be? Is it going to stay the same? Will they all hate me? Do they all hate me?”

A grade fallen, a transverse wave,
A steep, slippery slope, falling from grace,
A lack of hard work, a lack of focus,
But are you sure it doesn’t mean I can’t pull myself back up?

“I don’t know”, says my heart in the mirror.

A fuse melting, a tantrum thrown,
A victim to this raging storm,
The mirror, a witness to a tear-ravaged face,
Another girl, consumed by a burning fireplace.

Yet beneath this storm, a truth unfolds,
A time-old lesson, often told,
Anger, though devouring, its power holds,
A mirror to the very heart it scolds.

For in its fire, we feel our heartbreak, our agony, our sorrows,
Our fears and doubts, a strangling chain,
Although through the heat it’s hard to attain,
A strength renewed,
It’s a strength our mind will gain.

For what is life if we don’t have a mirror?
Who are we without our own reflections of pain?
Even from the depths of our own gloom,
From Anger’s ashes, hope can bloom.

Signing off….