Diana Leaney López Ruano

this is not me. this girl that i see. she is not me. look at her- its dispicable. curled up under covers. what is she hiding from? what is she keeping in? that coward. look at her hands- they tremble. i have nothing to fear. suck it up. suck it up my dear. what is her deal? is it that hard to smile? she is not me. she could not be. her eyes are not mine. those deep hazel looks. they have not been dry since 2009. and those clothes. no way they are mine. they're black and dirty- and i like to shine. wonder who she is? poor girl. poor girl. why does she stand there? staring back at me? this girl in the mirror- who is she? ADVENTURE: finding myself amidst the grey. happiness in a drop of rain. RESULT: ... .... ..... ..... .... ... .. .

Black tears streaming down a pale face. Mascara drips from the eyes in stinging streaks. Blurred vision behind tinted glasses.   The dark brings blood and together the brick wall shoves and groans. Run. Wipe away the tears and stop. Clear the mess, bleach the blood and drop the rag. i wish i could run away to the place where my dreams welcome reality's troubles, place them in bubbles and send them away to open bliss. i wish. this isn't a starved cry for a glance. nor the pitiful tears of romance. i'm sad, its true. but don't worry i still have you. I have the power of the prophets and the world at my fingertips. I have the laughter and tears from these past eighteen years. So read and leave. I can do it. I still believe.