Blue Roses

Sreenidhi Boopathi

TRIGGER WARNING: Eating Disorders, Body Dysmorphia

She stood up all tall and proud,

The epitome of grace.

Knees bent and ankles out,

A smile upon her face.

The applause rang clear and loud,

She watched them from her place.

Roses fell and then she bowed,

Tears clouding her gaze.

Far away across the gleaming city,

Medicines line the walls

Of her one-room cottage, sitting pretty

Amidst villas, big and tall.

Above her head, a quote, short and witty:

‘Chin up or the crown falls’

On her bed, a diary of self-pity;

Its sadness leaks to the hall.

Every morning she cries

And pukes like it’s a duty,

Every morning’s another she dreads.

All her life’s made of lies,

False images of beauty;

A thin invisible line she treads.

Some say that pretty hurts

And they couldn’t be truer,

All the rest rate beauty with numbers.

As she lies there, pretty hurt,

Her lips turning bluer,

“How’d this happen?” the rest will wonder.

She lies down all skin and bones,

Starvation is the doctor’s call.

Beside her lie three of her clones,

Emaciated haunted dolls.

Their dance ideal signified by a stone;

In their world dysmorphia crawls.

One last light on appearance is shone

And the curtain falls.