The Lies of a Mirror

Why is the mind so cruel?

To always demand a duel;

Make us feel like fools

Being dragged by a mule

With mud on our faces.

Why is it us

Who bruise ourselves the most?

From where is this despise derived?

The sun though, is bright.

Touches all in its sight.

Exposes the beauty;

Reveals what is true.

But alone she does hide.

Cowers in the security

Of darkness and shade

Where green does fade;

Where fake flowers grow,

Digital love

Falls as snow,

And friends are shallow.

She picks at her face;

She jiggles her flab;

Grabs at her gut.

“Ew, what a mutt”.

Her lips are too thin;

Her skin is too pale;

Her fingers are stubs;

Her knees misshapen nubs.

Tears do fall,

And she hates those as well:

Her face looks weird

When she cries.

Blue are her eyes

And oh, do they sparkle,

But how’s she to know that

When her mirror just calls her fat?

Calls her nasty names;

Relates her posture to Igor;

Kicks her to the floor;

And pulls at her hair,

Which is too frizzy to begin with.

Might as well shave it off.

Maybe it will grow back…

Straight.

It laughs—when she sobs—

A great big, ugly cackle.

The sound spills from its grin;

Vast like the ocean.

Leaking through the window;

Under the closed door.

Embracing her figure;

Expressing deplore.

The sea rises

Right up to her roof.

She’ll die in her sorrows;

Never see those tomorrows

Where the sun rises

Just to tell her she’s beautiful.

For her mirror is not flat,

But is warped and cracked