#WritcoPoemPrompt102
Pen a poem about the ONE who gave way to fulfill your desire to write.
--
I once met a little girl,
With mousy brown hair,
And large green eyes;
Who wore jeans,
And a t-shirt that reached her thighs.

This girl was young,
And reminded me of
Someone I once knew.

We met through a mirror.
Each of us had a different side,
Both of us separated by a thick sheet of glass.

At first there was shock,
And then there was disbelief.
But eventually,
We started to talk.

The little girl spoke of her aspirations
For the future,
She knew what she wanted to be,
She believed that her dreams
Would come true.

She smiled widely,
Showing her crooked teeth,
As she told me about her pets,
The old dog and cat she loved so much.

I felt a smile creep onto my face as I
Listened to this little girl.
She was so care-free,
So determined,
So full of life.

Suddenly, she stopped.
She looked at my thighs,
Covered by my jeans.

She looked back up at me.

She couldn’t see them,
But it was like she could sense them.

I sighed,
Not wanting to ruin the happy mood.
The little girl just stared at me expectantly,
Waiting for me to talk.

I sighed again and told the little girl
My story.
I told her about the voices in my head,
I told her about my scars,
I told her about my thoughts.

She winced and flinched while I spoke,
But didn’t break her neutral face.

When I’d finished explaining,
She went to wipe the tears from my eyes.
But her hand stopped at the glass
She couldn’t get through.

She smiled sadly at me as I hurriedly
Wiped my eyes,
And then started talking about funny moments and memories of hers.

For the first time,
In what felt like forever,
My eyes smiled with my mouth.

The little girl made me laugh until I cried.
She made me ‘awww’
With her stories about her pets.

In return,
With her approval,
I shared my stories.

I told her about the mental struggles,
I told her about the plans I’d made,
I confessed to her how utterly terrified
I was for myself.

I made her cry.
She made me laugh.
I made her smile,
And she made me frown.

At some point,
I suddenly realised who the little girl was.

I had to try so hard not to give it away.

So I continued to listen to her,
And she continued to listen to me.

I then got the feeling
That our time would end soon;
And we’d never see each other again.

So I told her to stay strong,
I told her to keep fighting,
I told her to do what she wanted to do,
I told her to not turn out like me.

I told her to never let herself,
Get to the mental state I was in.

She was confused,
But agreed and promised to
Look after herself.

We both cried again.

She confessed to me that,
Although she was slightly scared of me,
She thought of me as a big sister.

I smiled and told her that she was
Like another little sister to me.

The air stilled
And I knew our time was up.
I reminded her once again to never give up,
To never stop fighting,
And to never doubt herself.
I reminded her for the very last time;
To make sure she didn’t end up like I had.

Then it came time for us to leave.

As she turned away,
The last thing I saw
Were the tears streaming down her face,
As she realised,

She was me.
© O.M.A

Note: I dug this old poem out from my archives because it seemed to fit this prompt. I decided not to make any major edits, including altering pronouns, so it remained as a sort of time capsule. I would like to note that I am non-binary and don't use she/her pronouns.
Anyway, shoutout to the younger version of myself. Writing about them and my experiences began my long, still unfinished, journey of healing.

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