By Anis Zahirah
In the depths of my mother tongue, a word so dear,
Cantik, whispered softly, a longing sincere.
To be enough, accepted, for beauty to ignite,
Oh, how the younger me yearned for this sacred rite.
Yet, the passage of time has not brought the release,
For still, the whispers linger, a burden to appease.
I wish I could claim indifference to their gaze,
But the truth is, their judgments still cast a haze.
To be seen as beautiful, a coveted desire,
To have my visage etched in memories that inspire.
But I know, deep within, my worth goes beyond skin,
Yet, a taste of privilege, oh, how it tempts within.
For beauty, like a delicate blossom, blooms and fades,
But my soul's essence, eternal, like sun's cascading braids.
I yearn for the day when my worth transcends the guise,
When beauty is but a fraction of the grand prize.
So, I'll embrace the journey, with grace and pride,
Unveiling layers unseen, where true beauty resides.
Cantik may never define me, but my spirit knows no bounds,
For I am more than appearance, I am profound.
In this tapestry of existence, woven with grace,
I'll weave my own narrative, to stand in my own space.
For beauty, though a seductive dance, shall not define,
For my worth lies in depths of the soul, so divine.
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