She remembers the first time she saw herself.
She didn't know who it was,
But the missing tooth, the frilly dress, the wonder in her eyes
Stared back at her; the looking glass played no games.
It was a work of art that others would enjoy,
But it was her job alone to find the flaws.
The folds of skin, the short lashes, the bumps
All screamed in agony whenever she looked,
Hopeful for beauty.
So she cut her hair, she colored her lips, she hid the scars.
She bought pretty colors, tight shoes, and a hair curler.
The little girl turned into who she believed was a woman.
A doll has what seems to be a perpetual smile but as days turn into years,
the stitches come at the seams; the cracks became clear.
The mascara that was once applied delicately now runs down her face.
Just as with a music box
The melody that came with the winding has reached its abrupt stop
Amid a deafening silence.
The silence that forced her to wear a smile, to laugh lightly at un-amusing tales
now drapes over her as a cloak, obscuring her inner happiness.
Little did she know that to regain her childhood joy,
All she had to do was look once more into the looking glass
And find her real self.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; any references to a person, place, or thing is purely coincidental.