Rise and shine porcupine,
Prickly and picky as you are
Hard to get through to
But still touched by
The most trivial acts.
Brushing away your flowy hair,
Seemingly perfect the reflection
On the glitzy mirror
But just as fragile
Your inner self.
Gently you pat the powder
On to your bruised face
Hiding the truth,
The beauty, the happiness
Just an opaque cover
To the hurting soul.
Is it to please that critical crowd?
Or that demanding man
In your life?
That shimmering
Dress you’ve donned?
Last but not the least
A quick glance at that
glitzy mirror
You wear it,
a smile so sweet,
Yet so fake.
Thrisha Sajeev is an aspiring writer.
Featured image credit: DANNY G/Unsplash