Dysmorphia

Tears run down her face,

And they kiss the curves of her lips

Giving her the burdened taste

Of sorrow at its most hideous state

Staring off, so far away

She glances and then turns swiftly

 Before she can catch a glimpse of the reflective grey;

She keeps pretending its a blind mirror

She is an artisan; reconstructing her features, creating her mask

So that she may look upon herself with confidence.

But only for a moment.

She lacks satisfaction, her make-up runs, creating an appalling portrait

    

       

 

Author's Note

Hey guys Im back!
I been through a lot these past few months, so I believe I am a bit rusty.
Just bear with me. PS: sorry about the abrupt ending, im trying to catch on :)

Reviews

[DarkShines]

I was starting to think I wouldn't see you again, but I'm very happy to be wrong =) You certainly have not lost your touch in your absence, this piece is brilliantly done and so vivid in its imagery. I can actually see the lines play out like a movie in my mind, well done as always.

[Tai Ryens]

The imagery painted in my mind when I read this is simply amazing; I love every word and image of it. The vision of 'beauty' stated in this poem expresses a lot of hatred for oneself, and a desire for physical beauty. Great job.