identity poem

I know, just posted a minute ago but this is a poem I wrote.

In the mirror before my eyes, I see a brown haired girl, she loves that amusement ride that winds and falls, removing the heads of her Barbie dolls. Why Not? They look more normal, without their heads making them inhumanly perfect and normal, girls should admire those who do not have amazing toes. No one is perfect you see, not even a Barbie (Especially when her head is flat)
Picking at her dinner plate, watching horror films when its late, by the beach with Anna B., eating ice cream that is head to knee, they are both sticky, because its so hard to properly get the milky yumminess into your mouth as a child, at the beautiful beach.
On the feild a soccer ball goes, swoosh, in the net, swoosh. vacant silence, cricket-cricket, cheers erupt like they are in Thunderdome feet trample on the turf.
She laughs at jokes, cries during movies with endings that make you choke up inside, some say her smile can light up a sunny day. Not her she thinks her nose crinkles a bit too much, too many freckles, but she doesn't mind.
She finds the night to be like a beautiful flower, blooming and shining with the moon, the stars glittering diamons. Little rain frops on the petals of the night and the sea as dark as the deepest hole with the moon reflection.
In the mirror before me, guess who it is I see! This brown haired girl dancing with the wind, twirling and laughing before my freen eyes, wet from the spraying water or sledding in the light snow. This girl I see, that girl. Is me.