As I look at my reflection, I finally start to see, 
Something new, something different. Maybe this is me?
No longer the product of flaws and imperfections,
I find I’m simply looking at a foggy reflection.

How is it that this image has such power over my mind?
To the point where it itself can actually make me blind.
Blind to the story the mirror fails to tell,
Only seeing the negatives my mind knows all too well.

For the useless glass in front of me cannot portray my worth,
My talents or my fears or the story of my birth.
Really it tells you nothing, so why then do I care?
Why do I constantly just stand in front and stare?

Picking at each part, never viewing me as a whole.
This vessel of my being, protector of my soul. 
Who even has the right, to say what is good and what is bad?
And why should I give others standards the power to make me sad?

The mirror used to haunt me, literally bring me to my knees.
Crying, wishing, screaming, can someone fix me, please?
I wanted to change my body, but I have come to find,
That my body isn’t the problem and I need to change my mind.

For the people too shallow to look beyond what they can see,
Are not the sort of people that I want close to me.
Who cares what others think, of this structure that is mine.
Love it or hate it, either way is fine.
I will not apologise for the image you decide to see.
That’s your choice and I am choosing to just happily be me.

~Simone Brick, 2014~

Still We Rise