He tells me lies, but shows the truth.

I ask him what he thinks

somewhere hiding near a wall

I whisper 

Who's the fairest of them all?

 

Your toxic glass draws me in

beckoning beauty and grace

but your image is proof

to this stranger, this goof

looking back at me.

 

Why do you stare with 

those stone cold eyes?

Mirror, mirror 

I am not perfect.

Keep feeding me your lies.

 

So honest yet cruel,

you twist my image 

create a disguise

and reflect a stranger

I don't recognize. 

 

Mirror mirror,

if you only knew

 the irony in beauty 

is wanting all 

but getting few.