Reflection

This skin of mine
Seemingly tough
Yet achingly fragile
Carries
These scars of mine
Reminding me
How
As a child
I would claw and tear
At my flesh
Drawing blood
Along
With my mother's tears
Because this
I could control
When everything else
Around me
Spiraled out of control
The ink that sprawls across
My body
Was always under the surface
Fighting to come out
Waiting to tell the story
Of a young girl
Struggling to embrace
Womanhood
Carelessly wasting treasures
On those who were undeserving
Because loving yourself
Can be brutal enough
And how could I expect it
From anyone else
This image I see
In the mirror
Staring at me
Ugly and uncomfortable
Waiting forty years
To feel like it belongs
Is growing tired of trying
The falls hurt more
As each year passes
Leaving bruises
That will never heal
~Amber C. Smith