Beyond the flawless skin !

As I  gaze at the glaring glass of mirror,
The fascimile of a  maiden I see,
Wrapped in an immaculate skin she is,
From all blemishes and speckles it’s free.
Her visage conceives all reasons of vanity,
But reflects sheer drabness,
As if her mind is wreaking havoc,
With all the brewing happiness.
Her beautiful eyes look tormented,
Perturbed by the pandemonium in her mind,
She struggles to figure out what it is,
That always pulls her behind.
She pores and pores over the mirror,
And finally looks through the image,
Inside it’s all bruised,
She tries to recall the cause of such an apalling damage.
Not all bruises are gaping now,
Most of them are scars,
But each of it is formidable enough,
Her nonchalance it mars.
For she can reminisce that every day,
When she was mercilessly contused,
She fails to free herself from the claws of fear,
In the trepidation of being abused.
She restricts herself strictly,
To the carapace enveloping her,
She chooses to live with the symphony of the defeaning silence,
Than encountering the inevitable cacophony awaiting her.
For each jarring word had been sharp enough,
To mangle and make her bleed,
She endeavoured to brave them all,
But they crippled her indeed.
The scars appear to conjure up,
And swarm ’round her like bees,
They ram the ifs and buts into her mind,
And bemuse her with ease. ………………………………………….. She is overwrought now,
She brims with exasperation,
Her eyes are a claypan of oozing blood,
And her tears are arsenals  of resolution.
Deranged, she rubs her skin and rubs it hard,
To scrap the scars off them,
Alas! She ends up with read bloats on her skin,
For the scars are deep beyond them.
She becomes motionless  in a moment,
And gazes at the mirror with vulnerable eyes,
She feels overtrodden and conquered,
As if she is her own nemesis in disguise.
She will get one more scar soon,
Can she ever learn to overlook,
Engrossed in the exuberance that the further pages have in store,
Can she forget about the past pages of her book?