On a random monday morning,
she decided to stare at herself,
in the wet washroom MIRROR.
She saw an exhausted figure staring back at her.
Black hair- just like her’s, but with a touch of grey.
Skin slightly more wrinkled than her’s- worn out even,
And wounds all over- fresh ones and old.
The figure in the mirror was heavier than her.
For she had memories of days she had not lived.
The wounds were bought for patches of her glowing skin.
Her ebony tresses traded for Strands of a white wig.
The kindest girl in the world looked at herself in the MIRROR
And she saw a pair of eyes- Cold, captious, and cruel
