I look in the mirror
and see what isn’t there
My nose, my hips, my hair
I want to be pretty
Not see what isn’t there
My eyes, my teeth, my chest
I don’t want to meet my eyes
I’m ashamed of that I’ll find
I want to be pretty
Not see what I don’t find
My arms, my back, my legs
My feet, my hands, my face
I look into the mirror
I want to feel pretty
I want to see inside myself
Not see what isn’t there

I remember when I saw you at first, sitting at the front with some ranks on your shoulder - the proctor with cute dimples.

I remember that cute little girl with whom I wanted to have a friendship but couldn’t as I was too shy to hit up a conversation.

I remember that pretty girl whom I met after 9 years and she was just the same as she was 9 years back.

I remember how everything had stopped around me after meeting her that I spent the night just seeing the ceiling of my room.

I remember that silky brown haired girl with whom I have cheerful memories of talking at 3 in the night.

I remember those shining eyes with whom once I had a stroll and she grabbed my wrist with her right hand and the same arm with her left.

And I won't forget that cheerful face who loves to wear her black shoes more than anything else.

It's always beautiful
as usual
waking up to you
in the morning.

Closed eyes, tucked in
looking for you
as fresh rays
break day, and we
toss and we turn
feeling limb by limb

Leaning over to kiss
you awake
coming to know
first light
by your smile
when.

In the boudoir of satan's play pen
Chain-smoking her pretty lies
You learn the art
In your veins
In your heart
You can not refrain, dancing with sins
Touching her slowly
Oh the pain, you can not contain
Out of reach, you weep
This is your defeat