Insecurity

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It's a feeling I have known for a long time,

Echoed deep from the childhood, unseen and unheard.

From the relatives to friends, even those close and dear,

Insecurities planted in me, growing year by year.


I'm insecure of myself, afraid to be alone,

Told only smart, pretty girls are known.

My skin tone is not bright enough to shine,

Insecure of my nose, not sharp and fine.


My eyes, not large, fail to impress,

My speech, not well groomed, lacks sweetness.

Even on my walk, don't maintain any beauty code,

Insecurities are built into me on societal mode.


Each one is valid, each one is backed,

So why, one day, did he nag?

"Why so insecure?" he asked, with a sigh,

As if the reasons weren't clear, or I couldn't comply.


By 

Monira Rahman Bhuiya

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