“Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Who’s the fairest of them all?”
She asked with a smile, the first time in awhile,
And started undressing to try on a new style.
A snake in the grass, a snake made of glass
The snake whispered all of her flaws en masse.
The snake’s not alone with its heart made of stone
As it asks why it can’t see her bones.
“Your hair’s isn’t right, it’s a dreadful sight;
How could you imagine going out tonight?”
The glass snake is cruel, a most flawed tool,
Making tears in her eyes start to pool.
“Your legs are too big, you look like a pig,
Stop eating so much, you should be like a twig.”
The glass snake, she shatters; nothing else matters,
But her soul is already crushed and in tatters.
“Broken mirror on the floor,
I know I’m not fairest, anymore.”
“You never were,” the mirror lied,
And the fairest of all sat and cried and she cried.