Mirror on the wall,
tell us we’re fair
lest we wither and fall.

Draped in beautiful patterns of silk,
skin smooth and creamy as milk,
lips blood red with innocence.

Unravelling at the seams,
such nonsense.

Mirror on the wall,
belie perfection
lest we die and fall.

Say we’re fairest of them all.
A cut here, a slash there,
it shouldn’t hurt at all.

Say we’re worth a shot.
We’re beautiful, are we not?