A Thousand Mirrors

I saw a girl the other night.
Her face was pale, her soul in plight.
She looked as though she hadn't slept.
"Indeed," she said, "many tears I've wept."

I sat down beside her on the ground.
She looked at me, but made no sound.
"Care to talk?" I asked of her.
But still the girl would not stir.

Finally she said, "I need a friend.
Someone who can help me mend."
The girl looked deep into my eyes,
As if she was searching for hidden lies.

She must have trusted, for you see,
She poured her heart out just to me.
"My soul is gone, for no one cares.
They look at me with faceless stares.

Judging by my ragged clothes,
As if this is the path I chose."
The girl's sad tale went on and on.
I listened intently, though it was long.

Her forlorn words rang in my ears.
"I'm followed by a thousand mirrors."
"What do you mean?" I asked the girl.
My thoughts had then begun to whirl.

She said to me, "The stares I get,
Show my flaws-- my heart they forget."