The Girl

She thinks she looks like me.

I wish I looked like her.

The only thing in common,

Is the matching scars we guard.

She blinds hers by anger,

I wish mine I understood.

How can we be opposites,

When we both run from good?

Maybe she is me inside.

And I am also her.

Rebels without a cause,

This generations Devils.

Trapped inside our minds alike,

Exploring in our evils.

Neither of us saints,

More like broken beasts.

Digging deep within our demons,

while silently we weep.

Maybe I am her.

And she is also me...

Although we are so broken,

Still smiling eyes we keep.

I guess there's more in common,

Than to the eyes it meets.

Deep beneath the surface,

Of the tissue that we carry.

Souls mimick one another,

Reflections they are really.

Defined only by the features,

Shared between the glimpses.

Really I am still that girl,

That nobody else is missing...