By Sabhyata Ravjani
Every time I come across a mirror,
I try to look at myself the way I think the world does.
Run a hand through my hair,
wishing it were perfect.
Zoom in, why are my lips so chapped?
I hate it, why are there dark circles under my already ugly eyes?
Running a hand down my body,
wishing it were perfect.
But, she’s so thin,
she’s got skinny legs
she’s got pretty eyes
While I keep telling myself lies,
trying to copy her, a facsimile of pure perfection—as they say.
Everyone thinks she’s perfect
and they say, “just be yourself, dammit.”
But then, narrate me just after one glance
without giving me a second chance.
Does beauty really matter so much?
I converse with Him,
“This is unfair, it lies in your hands.
Why didn’t you just create us as replicas of each other?
Wouldn’t that eliminate discrimination, dear God?”
He smiled,
“Dear child, you don’t judge a book by its cover,
just like all that glitters is not gold.
What lies within is what’s yet to uncover.
Look beneath what the surfaces hold.
“Eureka! You’re more beautiful than you show,
because what’s underneath, they wouldn’t know.”
By Sabhyata Ravjani
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