Looking at moi reflection in the oval-framed mirror, I saw a little girl.
Dressed in frilly-perfect blouses and balloon skirts, she was lavished with many gifts.
Her eye-stunning smile dazzled moi sight, her happiness was indescribable.
Her eyes were a big contrast to her smile however.
She had eyes that were made of black, heavy liquid.
Eyes that shimmered with glittery tears.
Those eyes, they were looking wistfully at a mother and her son.
The mother was generously giving her son timeless hugs and kisses.
The son was laughing and smiling. He looked at the little girl and continued his laughter.
The mother soon noticed the little girl's existence.
She yelled at the little girl for her low level of intelligence as compared to her son.
She critisized the little girl for being so slow in response, as compared to her son.
The little girl could not contain the bottled-up anger in her anymore.
The bottle of anger exploded, raining down on the little girl's tiny frame.
The little girl's eyes suddenly directed at me.
A look of longing.
She sang a melancholic tune with her eyes.
I scrutinized her eyes, they were a tad bit familiar.
Then, I realized.
Her eyes were all too familiar.