I saw her crying through the looking glass,
I could almost sense her pain.
I knocked at the door of her misery
And somehow, seemed to ignite it even more.
She isn’t pretty like the other girls,
She isn’t even beautiful,
Because these days they define true beauty
By the fifty shades of your color.
And yet, she won’t go to the store next door,
She loathes the concept of cosmetics,
She’d rather lie under the cosmic entities
In the cosmetic sky above.
She always liked the idea of a starry sky
And yet, she’d never seen one,
Not fully adorned anyway.
Just a twinkle here, another there
But never a dark sky full of bright stars.
She was weeping
Because two baby birds had died
Even before they got to unfurl their wings.
Two fictional baby birds had died
In a fictional television show
About a fictional life.
And yet, she cried her heart out,
Because apparently, you can’t cry your soul out.
If she could, she would’ve sold it to the Devil
Because then she wouldn’t need to cry anymore.
I knock again and rattle the door,
I break it down to nothingness.
She looks at me with weary eyes
Through the looking glass,
The one impediment to our ultimate unification.
I sense the tears streaming down my face now
And it’s then that I realize
I hadn’t seen a mirror in a while.
– Rubani Kaur
Artwork Credit: Unknown