Broken Mirror

I had a broken mirror once,

it told me what to wear

and if I dared defy it\'s power,

it said things I couldn\'t bear. 


I had a broken mirror once,

it told me what to eat -

that cracker, there, is just enough

to feel lighter on your feet. 


My broken mirror followed me

past car windows, to the shops.

It told me I should hide away,

but that at some point this would stop. 


My broken mirror made me think

that it cared about my health -

this is for your own good, it said,

but keep it to yourself.


My broken mirror gave me reasons

that I should stay in bed,

and I used its shards to feel some pain

for on the inside I felt dead. 


But my broken mirror lied to me

when it told me I was bad. 

The glass, as dirty as it was,

stopped me seeing what I had. 


My mirror isn\'t broken now, 

I fixed it, all alone

and though it took some parts of me

they\'re slowly coming home. 


My mirror is feeling better now,

I\'ve got my mirror back. 

So, now even when I wear THOSE jeans

it never calls me fat. 


My new mirror doesn\'t talk to me,

doesn\'t tell me what to do. 

Although it sometimes nods when I walk past

as though it likes the view.