mirror mirror on the wall,

shatter yourself before you make young girls

f a l l .

Their heads are being filled with lies because of you.

They want to look like dolls.

Deceitful perfection.

You mock them,

Making them feel small.

When they see themselves,

They just want to crawl

Because they don’t look like all.

They want to be slim,

“Drop ten pounds” is their hymn.

Starving themselves and

Always hitting the gym.

They get so frail,

You see their limbs.

They’re the typical sad girl,

The perfect pseudonym.

The pounds constantly drop,

Yet they remain worthless within.

Beauty is preferred over health,

Their hearts stop.

If they aren’t at the top,

They puke.

When someone compliments them,

They view it as some fluke.

Their goals and dreams rebuked.

Getting skinny is the vital concern.

Calories.

Burn. Burn. Burn.

Everything they earn,

They hate.

They feel nauseated,

they sometimes faint.

But they never learn.

Because skinniness is what they yearn.

Hatred for their faces too.

They cover them with paint.

Contentment is what they ain’t.

Every feature is attaint.

Mirror mirror on the wall, Shatter yourself.

You aren’t a saint.

You’re wicked.

And twisted.

Twisting the thoughts of the young.

For with you,

Deaths are predicted.

Your value is insipid.

They cry,

Their mascaras dripping liquid.

~victoria k