On The Precipice

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Woman, girl, child,

Be pretty to be treated fair

So the child learnt the lesson,

Passed it on to the girl

Eventually, it became a stone lodged in the woman's throat


Some days, it is easier,

To swallow water and drops of nectar,

Around that small crevice,

Trickling down and filling the void


Other times, the stone lodged in the throat,

'Tis on the precipice, about to fall deeper

It's not enough anymore to feel pretty,

Everyone needs to echo that truth


You paint your face

You are an art

But you paint your face,

And people fantasize about the bare canvas,

The bare canvas and its white blandness


So, you remove the paint,

Proving the beauty embedded in the canvas

Some see it and still hold you close,

And some mock your existence as an eyesore


Now, you're on the precipice,

Falling deeper into the hole

You fought so hard for that first ray of light,

And the world around you

Fights to shun you to that familiar darkness


Woman, girl, child,

Be ugly and treat yourself fair

The child didn't learn the lesson,

Nor did the girl

But the woman learnt,

And repeats it each day

And oftentimes these days,

She's able to swallow gulps of water,

And the stone has shrunk into a quarter of its size.

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