Mirror Mirror

I am before a mirror

Smiling back at me is a grown woman

But she has the smile of a five year old,

The mindset of a twelve year old

And maybe the heart of an eight year old.

I am not sure which of these people I can be

For in the mirror of the world around me

I am called immature.

The urge to grow burns in me.

The desire to join em,

To be called adult;

To not just be intelligent but wise

Is stronger than the strongest desire.

So I strive

And work until the perfect day of maturity.

Wait!

I have arrived at an impasse.

I don't know what grown up is.

I am very lost.

Groping along the walls of age

With the blindfolds of childishness

And on each bump I hear contradictions.

The failing of my youth encouraged as a process;
by those who understand the complexities and struggle of a growth process.

While my flailing movements are interrogated
by the wise masters who think they know it all 
and have forgotten 
how many times they fell during their walk. 

Mirror mirror on the wall

Tell me who I am;
I don't need to know the fairest of us all, 

Show me the possibilities of all futures.

Reveal the steps I ought to take.

Mirror mirror on this wall.
I already know I am fair, 
No need to know who is fairer or the fairest. 

I cry in confusion for with each step I take

I ask in befuddlement what is right or wrong.

For in this mind of a twelve year old

Ignorance beds. 

Nkem Oyaghire