Analysis of looking through the glass

Its like rain droplets on your face in the middle of summer its not to cold but exactly right. I look at life that way we crave for the perfect moment, like the rain and the smell of the dew on the grass in the morning drinking your coffee on your ledge where you keep your favorite love stories. It would be nice to have that day where your life was so cozy like someone you love holding you so tight. What make me so lost and unhappy with the wealth and class is not enough for someone like me. I need more like when I was a child I would explore, my hands would touch everything I would feel the sand in my toes, and the rough rocks on the bottom of my feet and that feeling on my skin when the Petals from the flowers would swipe against me like they were reaching for someone. Feeling their sticky petals that smelt so sweet. I felt like I was at peace where I was, where did that feeling go? Or will I shrivel up and slowly die like the trees in October when they grass turns brown and our hearts warm up to someone close. But is that enough. It is like looking in a mirror, but it is not a mirror. It is a window looking at the lives around you thrive and holding a pillar, so it does not come crashing down. Am I the flower that opens and blooms instead of being the leaves that fall?
My droplets on my face remind me of that innocence that we all crave, the feeling anything is possible. Will I wither away when I start turning gray? Who am I? Am I a mother that prays, prays for my sanity, Is this still my life too, not just living., I need more, don’t I need more? I want to be the person she looks up to without losing myself to wicked ways the world throws in our face. Who am I? Am I a mother who makes it and that is it, or will I thrive with all the power of my might I will have that drive that pulls me to be a person in the mirror and not the girl who is looking through the glass? Empty not having that purpose we need to live; I have always dreamed so big my life is perfect what is my mind doing writing this poetry like I am some dramatic housewife this can’t be right. But I am writing from my heart the one with all those scars that made me this way, I want to say what I want and do as I please, but I cannot. I have a family. My attention is clear. I need to breathe and make it to the end with them. Let us start new adventures with my kids, let them feel the sand and the rocks and my hand that guides them to be what I can. I am done looking at everyone’s life. I am going to look in the mirror and see what I could not. Let it reflect in a way I am proud of, I am meant for so much more. that's what I have been searching for so ill keep looking until there is nothing left but a woman looking at herself with nothing but respect.