Mirrors shatter to pieces when I look at them
My soul and self-estimation shatter along
For I can't stand my looks which is a crying shame
A shame to which I've been holding for way too long

Oh I'd love to see happiness reflected back in my eyes
And have a lovely mask for my soul to proudly wear
But alas, I'm forced to look at myself with despise
'Cuz I'm not allowed to treat myself as one pretty or fair

Thus I shall act like the best actress in the screenplay of
my life
With a poor costume and mask with which I shall walk
And if dare I ornament my shell with an unholy true strife

The appeasing smile will be forced upon my lying face until
I shall choke

Oh I'd love to make myself pretty in my wrong, deceived way
And among my scarred soul and second-handed mask to make
peace
But it's not that type of play where I could improvise and
have my say
Thus, may shattering mirrors would be my caprice




April 2000