Dress

By Gladia Vimsal E

All it was just a mere dress,

Yet, never failed to give me tremendous stress.

Everyday I’m lost in the battle

Of “How I am” and “How I wish to be”

It makes my mind to rattle,

Turning my thoughts into a stormy sea.

Has it ever truly been my choice?

Or was it ignored like an unwanted noise?

Why do people consider it an obligation to judge,

As if they’ve been holding a century long grudge!

The ingrained seeds of insecurity

Wiped out my intact originality.

Fearing the unwanted scrutinizing gaze

I hide myself in those unwritten convention’s maze.

Choosing an outfit from the filtered left out options,

Feels like walking into an unwanted auction;

Unable to oppose and break free,

I sit here silently and agree.

By Gladia Vimsal E