She’s insecure, unsure, in search of the perfect cure
But she knows she’s better than this
Striving, trying, attempting, struggling, putting heart and soul into
Deserving that assumed true love’s one immortal kiss

What has become of the one with the pink bow in her hair and smile on her face?
Nowadays what wretched heartbreak does she mourn in all black?
Treading mirror to mirror, looking for the one who will accept her no-longer innocent beauty
So that she can look at herself like she used to…she craves her old self back

The faux hair and deep makeup are all that define her now, how damaged
Can a person be…to not be able to see beyond the distorted reflection on the mirror
Is there not a slight bit of self-worth left?
A glimmer, a spark, a speck, not even a flicker?

Utter chaotic pandemonium of self-loath in the early morning
Which may only be cured through hours of heavy ornamentation
On good days. Gone are days of rosy-red innocent smiles at the ground
Now her cheeks adorn merely tainted carnation

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, tell me now or not at all…
Do I perhaps, oh please, look at least passable today?”
“Sad, poor, baby, hush”…he says…” You’re my being…
I don’t care if you don’t…it’s okay,” he looks away.

Never good enough for you, it hurts, for you’re the one I love
Not a word I say goes unpunished; not a word you say goes unheard.
Every morning I wake, every night I go to bed, everyday
I want to be good enough for you, long enough you’ve suffered

Five years of self-punishment can lead to insanity,
Slit wrists, broken mirrors and a suicide note
Of all the blood-tainted mirrors and tear-etched pain severe
What mirror was too costly to keep her once-exuberant soul afloat?

Mifta Mahmud Cornea