Trigger Warning ⚠️ : Mention of eating disorder
***
She stands in front of the mirror,
Some broken shards, a broken heart.
Eyes so hollow, streaked with tears
A lost spark, torn apart.
A hurricane is rising
Her soul is seething,
Gazillion scars are bleeding,
Invisible, but still searing.
The voices in her head start to rise,
Overthinking is her only vice.
Thoughts stack one after another,
Trying to become her nighttime lover.
Alone, scarred, in search of some company,
But when is she alone? Oh the irony!
Soft caresses of 'what ifs' in the night,
Wounded again, she never puts a fight.
Walking through life, undeterred,
Once, a simple life is what she preferred.
But her naive blood, became an attraction,
For the blood thirsty predators— a temptation.
To the members of perfection, she surrender.
Why so simple? You'll never be a wonder!
In hope and dilemma, she gave in
A deadly game, she couldn't win.
Diet cuts replaced her full plate,
To be prim n proper, she barely ate.
Counting calories, running long stretches,
Looking at magazines, to see if she matches.
Why does she strive to be so perfect?
Those pretty faces are just serpent.
Hadn't she read, what truth can teach
Beauty fades, its depth can't reach.
But, look within her aching heart,
Finding solace, shouldn't be so hard.
Harder she tries, with dressing styles,
Makeup masks, some practiced smiles.
Goal achieved, queen bee crowned.
But hollow laughter is all she's found.
Her soul turned cold, her revenge is sick
Each victory hurts her deeper, quick.
All past forgotten, or so it seems.
In deadly night, her insecurities scream.
What prize did she get from changing herself?
Still feels like a wallflower kept in corner shelf.
Often she wonders, was it wrong—
To be herself, to feel belong?
Why chase a dream which will dwindle
With age, everything will wrinkle.
***
Dedicated to all those precious hearts who suffered or still suffer blows from the fickle-minded society. Society, which sets standard bars (of any form) and is inhumane to all those pretty souls, who ultimately have to resort to changing themselves. Changes done with will are a brave move, but forced changes leave traces of insecurity behind. Be strong, you are worth it, you are beautiful the way you are!!
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From my Heart's Attic
Poetry'From my Heart's Attic' is an ad-lib, a collection of poems. This book was born from the whispers of my heart. Each poem carries pieces of love, guilt, healing, and hope. From my attic of thoughts to your hands; I hope you find a part of yourself h...
