She wakes up in the darkness,
at 3 AM in the morning;
And peeks inside the mirror,
To see a lady peek back.
A lady with marks all over her body...
The lady picks up the brush
and rubs it in the powder
She has a wheatish complexion
And strives for a beauty that the world wants to see in her
She once again rubs that brush
This time, against her cheeks.
Then dips it in the blush,
Well her make up should be on Fleek.
Then comes the burning red
Gliding across her lips
The lips that have been caged by words
The ones that never really gave their opinion
Just because they knew it did not matter.
Next comes a bright blue,
right above her pretty eyes.
Eyes frozen just like ice afraid to shed the next tear.
Her eyelashes are here next,
They can't be fixed with mascara,
Oops! What to do now?
She fixes it with falsies...
Then arrives a line along her eyes,
'Winged' it is called.
But she does not like any of this;
She just wishes, she could hault.
Paint your toenails babygirl,
In a perfect shade of copper.
Wax your hands and legs
Don't let a spec remain!
Look in the mirror again!
Are you happy with how you look?
No you're not! Shut up!
Look at those ugly breasts,
Hanging loose like polybags;
Then comes your belly , just like jelly
Nothing less than a punching bag.
"Don't eat for a month"
"You should go on a diet honey"
"You're nothing less of a teddy bear"
"God ,why are you so ugly?"
Look at those hips girl,
Flat as a wall.
Where did you get this body?
Was it a yardsale, or a cheap mall?
The girl has always painted her body
The way people wanted her to
Carving her body like a stonemason
Never willingly, cutting her wings.
For the first time at 4 A.M.
She painted to her will.
Her brush being the razor,
And canvas being her skin.
However, the silver doesn't go deep enough.
Only scars remain there.
The burning red does flow like liquid,
But smudges and dies...
She wipes off the make up.
The ice in her eyes melt;
She then hides the blade in her drawer
And feels guilty of the life she lives.
The girl does die though.
Two years later at 2 A.M.
A girl sleeps in the darkness
Never ever to be awake again.
Let her skin, be hers now forever...
YOU ARE READING
Eclipse Enchanted
PoesiaPoetry is a form of literature where one can express their deepest thoughts without restrictions. I wrote this album in hopes to express stuff that most people go through and would definitely love your reviews and suggestions!! Happy reading. Oh...
