Mirror, Mirror on the wall
Yeah, well let’s be honest
Not a face to fantasise over
Get by looks saved by a pair of blue eyes
~
What you see is what you get
Don’t quibble about the merchandise girl
You bought the whole package
The good with the bad, no money back
~
The glass image finds its voice
‘Come on, cut the crap
Look at the hairline
Look man’
~
How long now
A year, maybe two
Before the red furrow escapes
From the nest so carefully arranged
~
You could not hide from lovers fingers
But the lie was close at hand
Soon to be told for the children’s ears
Repeated for the inquisitors
~
Why? It’s not a shameful thing
I know of others that would glory in the telling
Perhaps the brain guru’s have the answer
Or cobble one together to justify the fee
~
So I wrap the truth to poetry
Set it free in cyber space
When, but for that millisecond of time
The face in the mirror would be a skull