Beauty's Hidden Battle Poem by Jamuna Z

How the mirror whispers, casting shadows of doubt,
Once confident faces now twist, looking out.
What's in the glass—both beauty and chains,

Wrapped in comparison, a prison that reigns.
One woman's triumph is another's deep cut,
Mirrored reflections where envy is shut.
Money like oil, slipping through fingers so tight,
Every inch of success feels like a stolen light.
Never enough in this game of the vain.

A towering figure casts doubt on the meek,
Reaching for heights they'll never quite seek.
Each pound, each curve, like a weapon to wield,

Judging the flesh, where self-love is sealed.
Elegance with price, a currency so cruel,
All of us hungry, yet starving for fuel.
Like wolves in the night, hunting what's rare,
Other women's gifts—how they burn, how they tear.
Falling into the myth, that beauty's the crown.

Only the brave can lay down the crown,
To love what they've lost, and never look down.
Here, in the quiet, where true power is sown,
Envy dies soft, when we're not alone.