The cheetah perched by the lake,
Cleansing her paws.
She scowled at the water,
For reflecting her flaws.
She rubbed at her spots,
But they wouldn’t disappear.
She loathed her matted coat,
And she shed a sullen tear.
An elephant came along,
And sat by her side.
“Just look at my wrinkles,
I wear them with pride!”
“How do you find the strength?”
The cheetah enquired.
“I found more to life than beauty,
And that’s all it required!”
Image Credit: Pixabay.com
In response to Wrinkle Writing Prompt: Sunday Scribblings #3 found here
When your eyes meet mine, I wonder what you see. What is it you’re looking at? Do you see my prominent flaws? If not, what do you think?
My eyes gaze around the room, wondering whether anyone is looking at me. I am not conceited… Am I?
All I can see in my reflection is every imperfection, even through the layers of foundation. I smear some new crimson lipstick across my lips, and pout. I love the colour. For a split second. Meanwhile, my lips retreat back into a thin smile… which then fades.
Even when I can’t think of a reason to feel pretty, I anxiously hope that you can see beauty in me. I seek validation, but what does that say about me?