A visage’s mirror is broken
by the incessant obsession with glassy skin.
Inside the sheath rests deceit that garner profit,
ready to strike the herd that is enraptured with eternal beauty.
No spots, no marks,
Instead, only masks and filters.
Yet, the jumbled visuals blur visions
And all dance to the mirth of perfection.
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Ankita is a middle-class Bengali woman whose eyelids are painted with yet-to-be fulfilled dreams. An avowed reader, she only wants to learn and write in life.
