For the damned.

I grew up with mirrors. Glued to the palms of my hands. These mirrors are what has made me strong. These mirrors are what has taught me about myself. About the way I love, the way I live. About why I cry. They have molded and made me. But they had to brake me first. They had to make my hands bleed. To become too heavy to bare. As with these mirrors - in the reflection of my glittering hands - I lost myself completely. With these mirrors, I carried the responsibility of everyone around me. With hands like these, when faced with injustice - you don't fight. When in presence of bad - you don't hide. With mirrors like these, you cannot cover your eyes. As all you do is see yourself. What you have done wrong. What you have said. With mirrors like these, you become the fault to every action taken against you. And the guilty become the innocent.
With mirrors glued to the palms of my hands, I was left defenceless. Where my hands should have been my protection, they had instead become the protectors of the very things that hurt me. My hands - my mirrors - a safe haven for the damned around me.


Love,

C