REFLECTIONS-AND-MIRRORS

Bound to the chains, invisible, they weigh me down,

I tug helplessly like a zombie, lost, back and forth,

Torn between being the "perfect her" in their heads,

Or the "real her" deep down, yet to find her true worth.

A china doll with a smile, plastered, I wave,

An illusion of perfection, they see me portray,

My voice a mere whisper, never heard, I am,

Smiling through fire, deemed virtuous, day by day.

I try to scream, but a tiny squeak escapes,

Lost between roles - daughter, mother, wife,

But what about me, separate and true,

A person, not just attached to another's life?

Staring at the mirror, contemplating my fate,

If only I could speak louder and bolder,

Crinkles at my eyes as I smile and wait,

A shadow of myself, when will I grow older?

Then 'NO!' for the first time in years, I dare,

Scared, yet excited, I resist their control,

Foreign to my guts, this newfound flair,

Horrified, they gasp, trying to console.

Happy I found the real "her," elated to share,

But disapproving looks make me question my choice,

Trapped between worlds, two beings in despair,

In the mirror, I question, can I find my own voice?

Slipped back to patterns of fear, doubt, and disdain,

Raging at the reflection, timid and meek,

Yearning for strength, to break the chain,

But obedience remains, for their approval, I seek.

I see Layla, a meek and virtuous soul,

Her praises sung, the one my mother adores,

Yet a shadow of her true self, losing control,

I yearn for the freedom to embrace life's uproars.