By Ilina Udani
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who is the fairest of them all?
The mirror chuckles, it will not lie
She watches, and soon hope dies.
For the mirror is a cruel judge
It shows her the grotesque scars, the unsightly pudge
Eyes too small, lips too thick
The illusion breaks; a flighty trick.
And she sees herself for who she is
That plain, unassuming girl in the glass
One so easy to ignore and bypass.
She's the dregs in the barrel after the wine's been drained
The weeds in the river, a cloth greasy and stained
Never one to be kissed by the light of the sun
Never fated to charm, or enchant, or stun.
She's the lingering shadow ere the moon rises in the sky
The lost child's tears, the wanton's sigh.
For all that is good in the world
The white mist on the peaks, the joyous song of a bird
Shattered, faltered, burnt to ashes before her.
She who longs for beauty
Craves it with inexplicable desire
Wishes to bask in its golden light.
She, who weeps before the mirror
Her heart breaking to see
That ugly girl in the glass.