Come in, do not switch on the lights.
She’s comfortable in this darkness.
She lives with the devil and It hates the light.
It feeds on her fears and insecurities.
It’s been a while since she’s faced the mirror,
She says her reflection never shows her kindness.
She can only see her flaws.
You can’t help her,
You can’t help someone that feels like a prisoner in their own skin.
She despises the scars on her skin, though they tell her story.
She hates her body, even though it’s what my mom used to tell me
African women should look like, full-figured and vivacious.
Believing she’s imperfect has left her scared, miserable and depressed.
Don’t show her kindness, to her, everyone has an ulterior motive.
She has built this strong barrier around her heart to protect it from ever breaking again.
I hope one day she sees herself through my eyes, how she shines.
How her eyes spark feelings of hope and happiness in everyone she looks at.
How her smile is reflected in everyone she smiles at.