Mirror, mirror

Mirror, mirror on the wall. I know I am not the fairest of all. My hair as red is the new morning Sun. My skin as white as a pale white rose. There is more to my body then I would like to admit. And my face is that of Picasso. Yet Picasso paints his real art inside my body as well. My feelings, my guilt, my dreams, my hopes. Like a rainbow through a prism, i dwell. Even though my insides get confused and afraid , I am usually sweet and kind. I am sorry for my faults and for my word sometimes said. But the blackness will soon turn clear in my mind. If you ever do hurt or use anyone , please let my guilt rise above. For feeling my guilt would make me realize what exactly I have done.