She sits before the mirror
at the reason for her rejection.
A face cloaked in smooth,
And when she digs her nails
into her flawed skin with frustration-
she slowly, but surely
begins tearing it off her frame little by little.
And when all that’s left
is the brightness of bone
and the rosiness of muscle-
She rolls on a disguise of white.
And when she returns the next day,
skin painted with ivory,
her ears ring with the word she so badly craved-
By Judy Zhou
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