This poem was inspired by how societal standards of beauty affect people and the lengths women go to for attaining what they consider as "beautiful."
Her toe scrapes the remnants of broken glass scattered about the bathroom floor.
You know what they say.
Broken glass is a good omen.
She brings a shard of the mirror to eye level, its knifelike ends barbed and sharp, examining her reflection.
She was beautiful.
But it was her job alone to seek the flaws.
She craved beauty; she had caught a case of the green-headed monster.
The short lashes, the acne, the small lips cried in agony.
And so she wore her mask that always smiles,
Little did we know her gentle flicker of a smile hid unbearable pain.
Fueled by necessity, feasting on her desires,
A vicious, yet desperate voice engulfed her mind,
Telling her she's not good enough.
When will she ever be?
What more could she possibly do than hide behind her artificial mask,
And put on an artificial smile?
Disclaimer: This is work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.