i broke my mirror

the afternoon

a girl pointed out

my insecurities.

the only person

i can surely call a friend

is danny

the short mexican

girl that moved here

three years ago.

she screamed at her

and tried comforting me

but i just out on a smile

saying it didn't bother me the least

and she didn't believe me

but she didn't push it either

so the night i broke my mirror

the shattered pieces cut my arm

and i didn't bother

to stop the blood

i just watched as it flowed to my fingers

and down on the floor

and the pain

made me feel alive

and when i cleaned my cuts

i had to wear a long sleeved shirt

and i was glad it was a little colder outside

and jean talked to me 

and he asked about my day

and i said it was boring

and his was too

and i think that when 

we both said boring

we both really had

a day that we wanted to end

and another one

never to come.