Reflection of Imperfection

Slowly, I sigh
I look up, I cry
As the horror of my ages laughs beyond the pane of glass.
Taunts, confuses, show no comfort, nor amuses.
Just bellows with its laughter as the good times all roll past.

And the one I see today, could be the one I led astray.
The poor and troubled dream that life itself forgot to love.
If I could, I\'d give it all the care that I saw fit.
But it\'s too late, I hate, this thing that mocks me, rocks my soul -
my reflection -
used by a sultry angel from the lands way up above.
How could it be, this \"dream\" I see, a girl I used to want.
A reflection of perfection, now so fragile, oh so gaunt.
It took the lies, the cries of laughter when \"the fat one\" sauntered past.
Saw itself as something ugly, not impressive, never worthy,
to be living like these people straight from the magazines.
And so it ripped itself, cut away, just tore to shreds,
its soul, its humour, all the things that made it real.
Now it stands against a backdrop, keeps its head down, never feels.

\"Now on the market, come one, come all, a genuine peer pressure induced porcelain doll! So torn by inner turmoil, it\'s cleverly wrapped in tinfoil, to preserve the cracking lines of the damage done before!\"
(£9.99 from all good retailers)

She slowly sighs.
Looks up and cries
As she sees the image of herself that she let be moulded in,
to something just as bad, as the things she never had.
Pity how the lies just get to you, I should have never let them win.