mosaic of mirrors

I'm a mosaic of mirrors meant to reflect the personalities of the people I admire the most. 
I'm a culmination of plagiarized jokes and stolen souls reformed to be my new personality.
Late at night, grown-up voices echo throughout the open hallways that line our house.
I lay in bed, gripping onto every word, 
Every laugh, every joke, hoping to one day be just as flawlessly human 
Then, the shadows of night creep through my bedroom windows
Their voices begin to muffle until all I hear is the soft zoom of the ceiling fan 
I begin to process the conversation alone, like a ghost in the black of night 
Eventually, mirroring just wasn't enough 
Like a puzzle with duplicate pieces
What are you supposed to do with the extra one?
I was always so comfortable being so easily excluded 
Sitting in the corner, watching from afar 
I listened to my classmates' conversations just as I had done before, like a ghost watching through the speckled creme-colored walls. 
I could feel my mosaic of admiration grow into jealousy 
I could feel the concrete holding each fragmented reflection, crack as ivy clung to my walls 
I couldn’t help but watch the ivy grow until my eyes filled with green 
I think my mosaic just isn't pretty enough to be loved

I'm 14 now, and I pity that girl who did everything possible not to be given up. 
I’ve learned to stop watering the ivy that once infested my walls 
 I am now a mosaic of mirrors carefully sculpted and shaved down to reflect who I’ve become
I'm still searching for a place where I am not bound to someone else's reflection 
I'm going somewhere where there is nothing but my own hand-painted sunset to reflect 
Where the rumbling ceiling fan and creme-colored walls are nothing more than a memory 
Still, some days there is a child that cowers inside me, just that hoping my mosaic is pretty enough 

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