Conversation With My 14 Year Old Self

A Poem by Doxophobia

There is a hatred in her eyes
That I have not seen in years
There is a tear on her cheek
That I cannot wipe away
She is too young to understand
That it is not okay
It is not okay
IT IS NOT OKAY
FOR HIM TO TOUCH YOU
OR HURT YOU
It is not okay for him to invade
With his slithering slime
On pure, white snow
But she doesn't even know
I wish she could know
That it isn't her fault
It never was and never will be
An there is a certain beauty
In the fact that she will never be
The perfect she strives for
I wish I could tell her that one day
One day she will be Prom Queen
One day she will be married
With children of her own
Who will not be afraid of the dark
Because nothing will be there
I want to tell her to look me in the eyes
Drop her disguise
And see that I am her.
For me to see that she is me
For us to know
That despite things that will never
Be okay
Things will certainly not be
What she remembers
That very thing will be
No, not fixed
But taped up an reusable.
We are not disposable.
You sweet, sweet girl that does
Nothing wrong but pretends to be asleep
You are me
I am you
And together we will be
Forever we will be
A taped up mirror.