• Antara Basu


And there she stands again, Staring at her mirrored self, Eyes glancing over each etched mark, Every scar and blemish. Distorted and more grotesque than before, Oblivious to the veil of beauty that engulfs her.

She's relentless, Trying and trying to crawl out of this vessel, she so despises. Towards allure and perfection, she can't seem to find within. But she can't break free, These shackles that bind her, To loathe, to disdain.

And each time she claws her way through, Feeling a little bit closer to the beauty she desires She finds herself buried, deeper and deeper Seduced by the spiral of scorn she created within, Stumbling through failure, The bars of hideousness only restrain her further.

Strangling her with the reflections, And she can do nothing but hide, Concealing all that is flawed. Every inch and every edge Trapped not within her body,

Not inside the reflections of mirrors But the reflection of her mind.