She studies the mirror like a painting. Her eyes trace every line, blemish and scar. Trying to find the beauty.
But no matter how hard can\'t see it. No matter how many tell her, she\'s beautiful and worthy.
The mirror is not broken, nor is it cracked.
But still the reflection is marred.
It\'s clouded by all the self hate, anger and pain. Changing the prospective of the image.
If only she could see the truth. See the beauty. In the lines that give her character. The crooked smile brightening her face. In eyes that sparkle. And every scar that tells a story. Her story. The one of survival.
Until the storm passes and the cloud parts. The reflection will remain distorted