She looks at her reflection in the glass
Her gaze fierce as orange flames burns her
Wild tangled hair messes a neatly tied image
Blue sharp eyes penetrate the ambient light
Her visual appearance says it all
She is Kira, the blue silvered headed girl
That foreign, strange, weird, nasty, ugly little girl
A weak dainty thing like fragile glass
Yet never breaking even amongst them all
Those who stab small delicate words at her
Calling her more dangerous than the light
That which shows her a broken distorted image
Staring at her own mirrored image
She tugs at the hair that makes this girl
Hoping her hands erase what is shown in light
Making fists and breaking away at glass
Ignoring the cuts she forces on her
Trusting the memories will fade with it all
Picking up shards of forged truth, she sees all
What makes up that neverending image
The words, the stares, the fists thrown at her
All that pressed, tightened, and shattered the girl
She who stood tall before wavering glass
Never knew she also resembled light
Her lucid locks give off a soft light
In that moment she forgets it all
Drops the voices, her hands, the glass
Finds herself in a transformed image
Daring to see what is left of the girl
She carefully removes a piece off her
In that fragment she catches a glimpse of her
A soft messy figure enveloped in light
Wild hair, mesmerizing eyes, she is a girl
who with a transparent gaze realizes, all
those who twisted and tore her image
were trying to hide the beauty on the glass
She picks them all, the pieces that cut at her
Fixing and mending her image, she places focus on emerging light
Which she uses to make new glass, one reflecting a most beautiful girl