(16, CA, USA) Anonymous - Her Poem

Her with the ebony hair,

Her with the glass skin,

Her with the hourglass body—

Her. Her. Her.

She with perfect grades, a pristine house, an idyllic family,

With brothers who shield her, a boyfriend who cooks,

A mother who dotes, a father who kisses—

Her. Her. Her.

But she is not real, a fantasy within,

Haunting my dreams, a mirage that's not me.

A muse I will never get to be.

Oh, how I've longed to be her.

I wail to the moon, wish on a star,

Blow an eyelash, hope for a ladybug to land from afar.

Pray to God for one chance to be her—

Her. Her. Her.

I take the magic token and feel like her.

I inhale the sweet smoke and feel like her.

I drink the potion and feel like her.

Her. Her. Her.

And I become her.

My hair gleams like midnight skies on a still summer night.

My body floats, light as air,

My skin glows as soft as starlight.

My family finds me with tears in their eyes—

Oh, the beautiful tears.

So this is what it's like to be her—

Her. Her. Her.

Their faces blur as they whisper sorrow,

Boiling with remorse for tomorrow,

Yet I forget as I break free of their grasp.

Spinning through clouds,

Twirling with wind, leaping in rain,

Rolling on moonlight, free from pain.

In meadows where sunshine kisses my cheeks,

Where bees hum softly, and the world feels still,

Where tokens reach my heart, and smoke fills my brain,

Where the potion churns deep in my veins—

I wonder if being her is worth the dream,

Or if I've lost more than it seems.