Cosmetics - Poem by Pankajam Kottarath
Tiny rabbits stay still
while chemicals dropped
eat away their eyes.
After the trials
‘subjects' remain frail for life.
Behind the magic of mascara
lie the sediments of sorrows
of the tiny subjects.
Absence of tear ducts aids researchers
and my eyes oust what the rabbits can't.
So Real is this filthy truth.
Squeaky rats, skins shaved and scratched
chemical burnt and watched for weeks
for sensitivity, under microscopes
without even the chance
of a touch or scratch
until the data sheets filled up,
finally breath their last.
Glossy lips truly resemble
colour of the scraped skins
that rouse secret wishes
in beholders' hearts,
but veils from dreamy eyes
the pain of the mute subjects.
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