She stands before the mirror, a shadow in her eyes,

A flicker of a question beneath the vast disguise.

The world has carved her edges, reshaped her every bend,

Yet whispers of another self call softly in the wind.

A version of herself she’d never thought to see,

A dreamer, bold and fearless, unbound, and truly free.

Not tethered to the weight of doubts the years have sewn,

But rooted in the courage of paths she’s never known.

Her voice would rise like thunder, her heart would hold the flame,

She’d walk through storms unyielding, unshaken by the blame.

This stranger in her mind, this flickering ideal,

Feels distant yet familiar, a shadow she could feel.

If only she could meet her, if only she could try,

To stitch the fractured pieces of her soul that still comply—

With rules she’s never chosen, with walls she never built,

To break away from echoes of silence and of guilt.

But maybe she is closer, not lost, just out of view,

A version of herself that waits for skies to turn to blue.

For every step she’s taken, and every tear she’s shed,

Has led her toward becoming the vision in her head.

She’s not a distant stranger, not someone far away,

But rising in the quiet of each unguarded day.

And when she finds her footing, the woman she will see,

Is the truest version of herself she’s ever meant to be.