You always were a work of art,
Cast in flesh and broken hearts;
Draped in skin of not your own,
Stretched tautly over groaning bone

My beautiful monster, can't you see?
'Twas I made thee, unselfishly-
Yet still, from me, you turn away
And squint against harsh light of day

Sewn and stitched, with love, together
None shall ever know you better-
Each hair, each line, I put it there!
With gentle hand and tender care

Alas, you'll never utter word-
A reflection's voice is never heard.