She stares at her
reflection in the crooked mirror
Her eyes examining
every inch of her body
Her perception forever
the same
She is a portrait
filled with blobs
There is no illustration
of beauty
Only traces of never-ending
revolt
The familiar expression
on her face
Is filled with hatred
and bitter tears
Rapid thoughts running
through her head
That scar her deep to
the core
Telling her she’s a beast
That nobody wants
around
Written April 11, 2016
© 2016 by Lena Kovadlo. Use with permission only.
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