She stood there, like a shadow
Always dressing herself up with dull glitters and torn clothes
And yet she dared to ask the mirror if her beauty was enough
Ignoring what it took for her to recognize her own reflection
Was she beautiful yet?
She knew that perfection did not belong to her
Reminding herself that it’s a stranger’s possession, she tried to replicate a mask
The beauty was hers, the fame and the glory
But every time she stood next to her, a shadow she became
Long, hard way to perfection
She will wear the mask, hoping that one day, it will bring her happiness.
| 
Email this Short story
| 
Add to reading list
