Loathing upon the world
By opening a jeweled box.
She sat at her vanity dresser,
Gazing upon a reflection
With a frown
That twisted the hearts of humans nearby
And those across the seas.
Their vision of themselves
Became warped and all
Began to see the tiny flaws,
The bends and curves of
Their reflections and countenances, their lives.
Each distinctive bend of a nose,
Every laugh line around the eyes,
Every rounded apple cheek
Became a reason for self-hatred,
A quest to conform to some undefined
Sculpture of perfection.
Each body became too fat, too thin,
Too long, too poorly toned, too flawed.
Pandora's scowl became our own.
She glanced at her servants behind her,
Their faces reversed in her looking glass.
She saw their differences, from each other, from herself.
And began to hate them all.
For being uglier, prettier, more special, more ordinary.
Different
From herself.
Their flaws enhanced her beauty
Their beauty called attention to her plainness.
She smashed the mirror,
No longer content to hate herself,
And turned to the others.
"Bring me the box," she said.
"I am ready to turn the key."
