this is what happens when i attempt poetry

Silent

When I was young, I used to stare into the mirror too long

until my features became wrong and unfamiliar.

I’d hear my strained voice repeat my name over and over again

until it didn’t sound like a name anymore.

And I was just a faceless, nameless stranger

who didn’t belong.

My mother would call my name,

and I wouldn’t answer

because it didn’t sound like anything.

I would smile when she walked in my room

because those were the times when I wasn’t allowed to speak.

She’d grasp my hand and pull me down from my seat on the dresser

and I’d leave the stranger behind in the mirror.