The inventor of the mirror, they say, Poisoned the human heart in a peculiar way. For in its reflection, we often seek, A version of ourselves that's perfect and sleek.
But oh, the mirror, it can deceive, For beauty lies not in what we perceive. It's in the laughter lines, the scars we bear, That true beauty resides, beyond compare.
So let's not be fooled, my friend, by the glass, For it's the heart that shines, like a star in the vast. In a world that values the surface, the sheen, Let's embrace our flaws, for they make us serene.