Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Looking proud and standing tall
With twinkling eye and gleaming smile
Your charming face, sure to beguile
With tricks of light, you play your game
First you flatter, then you maim
A cruel master, seldom friend
Teasing, taunting, without end
Are you villain, evil glass?
A horror prop, or tragic farce?
Am I enslaved, or am I vain?
Will your spell drive me insane?
All alone, yet you conspire
With images of love’s desire
Selling beauty, buying souls
Feeding fears and eating holes
You never lie, but miss the truth
By scorning age and praising youth
Catching beams, reflecting forms
Judging on distorted norms
Yet what you show is only part
Of who I am, it’s just the start
The best of me is what you hide
It’s all the beauty that’s inside
Mirror, mirror, on the wall
I hear your voice and heed your call
The one you show is my true friend
You are the means, I am the end.
— Wayne Visser