Is she lovely, is she bright,
Eyes like amber, warm with light?
It’s sick and twisted how it all unwound,
Tangled truths gave birth to false grounds.
I’m not angry, just lost in thought,
When you said I was pretty, was I lied to?
In the mirror, I trace the lines,
where confidence slips, a whisper of skin,
framed in shadows, I search for the light,
but the glow feels borrowed, not quite mine.
I scroll through faces, each one a question,
wondering why my reflection feels like a stranger,
as if pretty wears a crown I can’t find.
I paint on a smile, a patchwork of hope,
but the fabric unravels when no one is watching,
and in quiet moments, I wrestle with silence,
an ache to feel seen, to feel whole, to belong.
Yet here in this space, I’m learning to breathe,
to find beauty in edges, in messy beginnings,
to love the imperfect, the story in scars,
and maybe, just maybe, that’s where we start.
FEEDBACK Female Film Festival 