↳ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

xiii

she sits in front of a mirror,
opaque to her true beauty.
she paints her lips a glaring scarlet
with an ugly precision in her long slender fingers.
they're too long, you tell her.
so with the rusty kitchen scissors
she used to cut her hair
(because you told her it was too boring),
she chops them off.

such a pretentious mannequin she is.
and she sets out to impress.
do you like her, society?
this young girl, blinded by ignorance;
do you like her?

i scream at her to stop,
my resentment towards you like flames
lapping at the fiery pits of my mind,
an inferno of words tearing out my throat.
indignation is my loyal companion.
don't paint your face,
don't hide your skin!
but she does not listen.

do you like her, society?
the girl, brainwashed into believing
such a repulsive idea of perfection-
the idea that you created.
do you like it?

i watch her, a marionette
with a pretty painted plastic face
and i bellow at her to stop,
but she does not listen.
i watch her paint on her eyes
with an artless smile on her lips.
my god, you are so naive.