An excerpt from Dollhouse Downfall:

Mother Bear

Look into 
every car window,

every black surface that reflects 
my pale body back at me. 


Spiderweb scars on my stomach,

a lost look on my face.


Mirrors, feed into my fears,


I wished more than anything 
that I could live without being seen. 



That lens, that monster, a bear that had been ingrained inside,


it left it’s marks, clawing and scratching at my strings, 
grotesque,

I thought, as I looked in the mirror.



Every scar, I thought was a punishment.

 They said that silencing the outer voices would change things.. 


It did, but it didn’t undo what I had been told, what I had said to myself 
for the last twenty seven years. 



Every mirror was an enemy. 


Every tear was a memory.



After years and years of telling me that I was broken,


the cheap seats in the chapel were empty. 


The power of the mother bear was that 
she would soon be sleeping. 


That voice was a scar that would soon stop bleeding.