In the quitest corner of her bedroom A woman stares back at the mirror Wearing the latest dark lipstick on trend With her near perfection sharp arced eyebrows And her three inched high heels,
She stood there amazed yet unsatisfied Not only on her outer being but also for her soul, Even with all the planned efforts she made; Regardless the sleepless nights of pure thinking; Imagining possible outcomes for her definition of beauty
Unsatisfied she started to flip from pages to pages Of magazines of models and celebrities in their best glamour She imagined herself in those shoes and glamorous dresses Gradually she added jewelry unto her bare skin And painted her pale face with pink blush and mascara
She became a silent imitator, a copycat in other people's dictionary; An imitation derived from the motivation for beauty She saw upon the perfect photograph of a photoshopped model on the front page; She have become so focus to others à la mode fashion She failed to remember her own creative manners of beauty
This goes on and on and on, it felt like forever; Then the once creative young lady became just like everyone else Up to date with the latest beauty trends; Just like everyone, it inevitably sugar coats her insecurities aside And progressively concealing her own uniqueness.