Looking down upon them,
I surround a room filled with mirrors,
only to discover true perfections.

The mirrors lie,
when I glance at them,
I see a beautiful girl,
full of hope and is smiling.

Then why don't I feel beautiful,
and all my hatred dwelling up,
I smash all
the mirrors.

Turning around to see blood on my hands,
I see the broken pieces of glass,
and still be able to see a beautiful girl,
but all the mirrors seem to do is not tell the truth,
because I'm not that beautiful girl anymore, nor will I ever be,
because all the mirrors ever do is lie.