My mirror lied to me.
Showed me a face full of dreams.
Made me believe I was happy when I was not coated my eyes with happiness, until pain revealed it was not true.
Spitting up my pride as I die slowly inside.
Unlocking my tortured soul onto a diversity of emotion.
My mirror lied to me.
Shoed me a life full of hope.
 Made me believe that there was more.
My reflection denies my gratitude.
Finding a source of remorse bleeds out my veins.
My mirror lied to me.
Showed me I was pretty when deep down I’m not.
Made me conceited when I really had low self -esteem.
Giving me the false image of beauty as I knew a beast showed through, but why did my mirror lie to me?
Give me hopes and dreams?
As I gladly pass this depression I’m left with an impression of me.
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