I don’t really care for
who’s in the mirror.

Her eyebrows are weird
Her face far from clear.

Scars from picking at blemishes
hyper-pigmentation from the sun.

Her straw textured hair
falling out one by one.

Her eyes aren’t too bad
with those forever long lashes.

But she smiles yellow teeth
and her chipped front tooth flashes.

If I could only find a way
to make the mirror different

I can change the girl I see
into someone magnificent.

But the mirror stays in place
I can only change me.

I can paint a face on
become a bit bourgeoisie.

And be ok with the mirror
and with who I see

No longer the unpleasant
static version of me.

A wipe of a cloth
and some cool degreasing water

And I’m back to repugnance
at the lies that bought her.

The ones that told her beauty
inside was cheap.

Only the outside mattered
where the makeup can seep

Down into her soul
and tell her lies she believes

That she’s not good enough
that there is no reprieve.

She desperately needs to
look past the mirror

And see the parts of her
that aren’t so clear.

The constant love, praise
and adoring recognition

She’s seen through her whole life
needs to reach her cognition

To understand

That the beauty she cannot
see in a mirror

Is the beauty that will actually make
the mirrored image more clear.

~kb