Where is my beautiful princess?
In the darkest trenches mom
Hiding from the perfect world
For I am not so strong
To bear the agony
of being defamed
What crime have I committed if I have a bulgy frame?
I am not assertive enough
To handle the mockery at every stage
I remain confined to my nutshell
For they are ashamed of my ugly visage
My meritorious possessions call me Anna
But I think they all lie
Monster,giant ,fatso ugly
Are the names the perfect folks call me by
When I fall down,they ask how's the floor?
Being the floor's well-wishers they need to be sure
"Dont dance or run or the earth will shake"
Can I really cause an earthquake?
Their words perforate my heart ,shatter my confidence and tear my soul apart
I am liable to greet all this and not complain
For if I dare to raise my voice,i will be derided again
Am I allowed to question the smug faced society
For since eternity I am in dubiety
That for how long and for how many
Will their appearance be their identity?
YOU ARE READING
Vexatious Imperfections
Non-FictionA question to every "perfect" person and an answer to all the "imperfects"....
