I was walking a confident walk
Fully aware of the gawkers on the sidewalk
I crossed ways with numerous people
But I only remember the girl under the steeple
Her hair was rough and dull and brown
Common black eyes with a few eyelashes around
Her dress was a cheap and shabby one
But yet her charm was well spun
My attention, it wasn't the looks that stole
I have connected with her soul
As soon as I reached my home, I stood
In front of the mirror, staring at my… my Falsehood!
My face was loaded with oodles of makeup
My real skin completely wrapped up
My hair was blond and blue and curled up
I don't even remember my natural hair color, all this is just a cover-up
My grey lenses, my pretty long nails, my corset waist
And so many other things I've embraced
Why didn't I realize it earlier, I feel so disgraced
I had thrown the real me in trash and picked up this waste
The girl under the steeple had preserved herself
From these beauty products lying on the shelf
I had used these to look prettier and stand-out
But did I actually stand-out… Now I doubt…
Kashvi Gandhi 