Stolen Mirrors

White bedroom walls, all matte,

not a reflection in sight.

She was willing to die for that,

not for being right.

Sun turned up to the brightest,

not some neon light.

The words in her head – not biased,

not always ready to bite.

No mirrors testing her worth,

not a noise in the realm.

Her body wasn’t the hearth

and she took over the helm.

“Rest, dear, you’ve been hurt,”

She whispered, still overwhelmed.

“Years spent in standards so absurd,

Might as well live with just walls

And skip replacing the doorbell,

Even if you’re compelled.”

She has taken over the helm.