In mirrors deep, reflections lie,
Where whispers of beauty softly sigh.
A canvas painted by fleeting hands,
In search of grace that seldom stands.

Standards built on fragile dreams,
Shaped by voices, or so it seems.
Each curve and line, a silent plea,
To fit a mold, yet never free.

Behind the veil, a heart confined,
Craving truths that it may find.
In eyes that see beyond the skin,
True beauty’s light begins to win.

Let go the chains of doubt and fear,
Embrace the self, both far and near.
In every flaw, a story told,
Where beauty’s essence breaks the mold.