Maybe.

— Maybe if I smile

I can be pretty enough.

I glance up at the mirror with eyes hungry for beauty.

— They are starved.

This land inside the mirror is desolate and cruel.

— I look for an oasis, but it’s all an illusion.

And my eyes peer down at your picture

— eyes light up with your smile, lips a dark rose red

——cheekbones so perfectly prominent.

I look up to the blur of tears, my reflection gone,

— clouded, probably for the better.

Maybe if I was pretty enough,

I could be happy.

Original poem from my blog. Don’t forget to recommend if you enjoyed it! Thanks~