Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2020
For 9 years,
Age 5 to 13,
I wore Gandhi glasses.
They were rectangular,
And wire rimmed.
They were my favourite colour,
The colour of a marine freshwater fish,
They were salmon pink.
I wore them everywhere,
In company with my twin braids,
My metal mouth brimming with braces,
And my jazzy kameez.
To me,
I was beautiful.
I was truthfully my authentic self,
And that made me contented,
And so incredibly proud.
To the subjective society we live in,
I was a nerd,
And I was ugly.
To all my cousins,
And even my best friends,
My glasses made me look like an old,
Brain dead grandma.
To them,
I was old fashioned,
And to them,
I wasn’t cool enough,
Because I didn’t follow the latest trends.
The constant exclusion,
As well as the snickers about my outward image,
To all the unusually lengthy stares,
And the nonstop mistreatment,
Was what lead me to quit walking,
And drop to my knees,
Under a murky raincloud,
Showering me with plummeting self confidence.
I patiently waited each year,
For the annual eye doctor appointment,
And prayed my eyesight would drastically change,
In hopes for just one thing.
The day finally came,
When the optometrist declared,
I needed new glasses.
I was sure that on that day,
My life was going to change in the best way possible,
And I was going to be accepted in society at last,
As not an exclusive,
But just another copy.
Societal pressure had fogged my mind,
And the pitter pattering rain,
From the stormy cloud of crashing self confidence,
Was mercilessly bathing me.
I fell for all the stupid things people said to me,
Treading on the heals of popular trends,
Was like walking into a an inescapable trap,
Surrounded by poison ivy.
With my possessed mind,
I bought the trendiest glasses,
The ******* boring ones,
And I spent everyday wearing them,
And gradually,
I lost that feeling of uniqueness.
That feeling,
That set me apart from everyone else,
Had completely vanished.
I felt painfully uneasy,
And for some reason,
I didn’t have the same high regard for these new glasses,
As I did for my pink Gandhi glasses.
I felt like I was invisible,
Everywhere I went.
Bit by bit,
I began to blend into a group,
A group of people that all looked the same.
I didn’t feel like I was my own person anymore,
And most of all,
I felt empty,
All the time.
Farzeen Rashid
Written by
Farzeen Rashid  16/F/Surrey BC Canada
(16/F/Surrey BC Canada)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems