UNTITLED

I’m forced to confront myself when I look in a mirror, The sheet of glass speaking louder than society’s critics.  I try to bring myself to look at my reflection, But I turn away in contempt immediately. I look behind and revolt the image facing me, The cold stare providing more pity and melancholy than comfort. I don’t recognize the face in front of me. “What happened to that smile on your face?” I ask myself.  “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t change?” “Why are you engulfed in baseless confidence?” “Didn’t you trust yourself?” I become a subject of your scrutiny Because I don’t fit any of your stereotypes.  I walk on a path you paved with words sharper than thorns, Each name you call me cuts deeper than the last. Time runs faster than I can catch up with, And suddenly I need to worry where I’ll end up. Wayfarers astray followed Polaris, But I can’t find a star to chase. How does everyone know what they’re doing? Am I the only one holding a broken compass? Unsatisfied gazes lead my way, Disappointment silently trailing along. They say it’s darkest before dawn, But I long to see the day. They say April showers bring May flowers, But the flowers don’t bloom in my flood of tears. Your expectations grapple my throat, And I choke on my fears.  How much do I have to wander in this maze to be able to smile at myself? My useless thoughts eat me alive, And insomnia is now my best friend at night. How long will I hear your hollow applause echo? Is my success just another mirage? I’ve always wanted to fly high, But I’m afraid my tale will be that of Icarus’s.  I know it’s not just me, though. In the end, we all look up to the same sky. You won’t admit it, but you’re lost too. Maybe knowingly. Maybe subconsciously. Behind your beaming grin and sharp words lay your own insecurities. You’re overprotective of your weaknesses which you won’t acknowledge. You wanted to lead, but now you’re just a follower. You’re not willing to try because you’re afraid of facing the humiliation. You hate coming second because you’re the first to lose. You don’t want to be judged, but you still compare yourself to everyone around you. You’re never satisfied with your accomplishments. Everything you say ends with a question mark. You brush your worries past you in front of others, but you care. Maybe a bit too much. And you hate yourself for it. You want to stop running. Some make one-way trips to their own traps, And lay fast asleep, never to be heard from again. Adulthood has come knocking, But you quiver with fear because you’re not ready. You want to go back, But time doesn’t tick in your favor.  “Someone has to tell you,” I say to the blistered girl in front of me.  It’s okay. You’ve kept empty promises with yourself.  You don’t want to be labeled by numbers on a piece of paper. You tried not to fade into the background.  You’re tired of always being a people-pleaser.  You’re exhausted. You’re sick of everything. It’s okay. You’ll change, but it’s not always for the worst. I might not be old enough to give worthwhile advice, But there aren’t always answers to your questions.  Isn’t it the journey that counts? You might not know who you are, What to do, Where to go, But it’s okay. You’ll make mistakes, But that's why erasers were made. You can’t be defined, You’re untitled. And just one day, you'll realize That even the darkest of shadows need a light to exist.