Its beholder nowhere to be found.
If this was the standard,
It sure did make her frown.
Nevertheless, she did comply,
With the unwritten rules of the time,
As she severed the ties,
Of the union sat atop her eyes.
A razor and a pair of tweezers.
She was well equipped.
Ready to be a woman,
In a world that favoured beauty over wit.
And as she plucked and plucked,
The tears sprang to her eyes.
As she cursed the punctuation of perfection,
That never failed to make to her cry.
Then one day it became a trend,
That union she had once despised.
And so, she decided,
The notion of the beholder was a lie.
Though it had taken her quite some time ,
She had come to realise,
On the surface all that was left,
Were vacant eyes and an empty smile.