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. .