“Mirror, mirror on my wall
Who is fairest of them all?
I know it not to be me
With how I look, how could it be?
I am not thin or sweet or smart.
I do not look like a piece of art.
I am no rose in a field of daisies,
I look in my closet and see racks of “maybes”
Maybe if I were thinner
Maybe were I bustier too
I could fill my clothes like those pretty girls do?”
To which I, the mirror, softly replied,
The fairest girl stands before me,
Living each day outside of reality,
She lives each day in agony,
Trying to be the fairest that I see.
But what this girl does not know,
Is that she is the star of my world.
Every day when she looks into me,
I wish I could show her what I see,
But all I can do is reflect
And she cannot see her beauty yet.
So I will hang here on her wall,
Waiting with bated breath for her call,
“Mirror, mirror on my wall, who is the fairest of them all?”