The mirror holds terrible lies…(eyes)
An image so close, at the same time far …(are)
False dolls of beauty congregate…(gate)
Visions of imperfections form a haze…(ways)
This is their spell; they weave upon you…(to)
Inside they are empty, and you are their prey…(a)
They'll make you beautiful, for a price, for a toll…(soul)
This is an echoed poem. The italic word should someone echo the last word in the line. Read carefully. .