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And I looked in a hundred mirrors

And I can’t find myself

And I looked at shattered glasses

And see the relics that were unleashed

is it me? is it her? is she it? is she me?

Can I stop pretending that mirror is reflecting thee?
Dry dry legs from all the damaged you've pressured into me

Irritated flower and poor little underarms

You have rose bumps all over, they sting and bother

They go away with chemicals

They come back and steal more minutes away

How to wish a body can be so perfect and mutilated?

When can those strands on your head be perfectly curled?

Heat, pain, cute little rose knives,scratches,

You’re pretty with pink

You’re pretty in blood.
Society's know how on how to be pretty makes women go to the extreme.
There's a thousand girls,
they dress like you,
same skirt, same shoes.
They even got your hairdoo.

There's a million girls,
they like what you do.
They sing, they dance,
they move to your groove.
Some write, some play,
Though,
They all had better days...
Days to feel pretty, days to feel new
Days where they fall and feel like fools.
How can you differ one from two
If all you are is all that you knew?

And they bare that black liner
and they wear those same boots,
oh how it angers them too
Little do they know
Little do they see
What is the difference between you and thee.
See
They have these white faces
plastered all over tv screens
on posters,on newspapers even on magazines
They have define how to look
They have told you what to buy
Believe it's just a simple advice.

Now step one that scale, to breath and sigh
And oh! how that number makes all cry!
Don't you feel like you really want to die?
How to look at the mirror and feel pretty?
How to dress and hide this abnormality?
They will guide, they will help you see
What is the difference between you and thee

Go and find the best mirror and see
Look with your own eyes, not the eyes of society
They are not here, please do not shy
Look,
See the difference between you and thee

And my! Must you be so pretty?
To me and to all the girls in this society who look in a mirror a hundred times a day and still can't see beauty.
Miss the touch of shrill skin
To the loving body, that
He loves, to it she's a starter
Mirror lover mirror hater
She loves the skin he touches
With the light
And the pretty looks she
Catches of his sights
Who's the looker
She can't tell
Mirror mirror won't ******* yell

Scream how pretty
How vain how vain
Catatonic mess keep it sane
Ask this **** to the hanging saint

To the stall, ah! Run
To the mirror on the wall
He'll never know what she saw
and what she knows its cultural

Oh vanity how I sin to thee
Oh how the shameless walk
Red carpet on bright flickering lights
Who wants to be a superstar?
She'll ****** for the front page
Sin, my lady, what a gun
Bang bang shoots the camera
Cried out the undead
Shriek out to the infected
Sick pretty girls
Shattered diamonds
Occupy the souls
Lights that dim the truth behind walls
Shadow through the rights
Walk walk through the night
You the living dead souls
Surrounded, crowded.
Part of my new collection of poems to the Sold out "girls"

— The End —