Mirror

The outfit is nice,

Your face is envied,

The body is curved,

Silicone and makeup canvas flawed body parts.

Everything is supreme,

But you know the verity,

Your body hoodwinking the majority

Into thinking that it's winsomeness art.

You peer into the mirror,

And it reveals what is hidden

Like a magnifying glass,

Interrogating low-standard treasures.

Pain is beauty,

Artificial projects permanently fix

what makeup never sleeves.

Stare into the mirror

Everything is renewed,

Maybe love will fly over

Now that you exceed Gibson's perfection.

You daze as the hours' pass,

But you are still hanging-by-the-thread,

Because not even plastic,

Can puzzle piece your dysphoria.

More is better,

Injecting and implanting

Will maintain your high-maintenance look,

As confidence piles below-the-norm —

While the mirror reflects all the spurious creativity.

You peek one last time

As the mirror quietly slants forward

Mocking the carved body,

reflecting harbored hatred against the imaginary physique,

Reminding you that perfection's improbable,

And that the sculpture's a temporary lie;

Permanence never fulfills the desperate gluttony.

Reaching aces and superb delicacy,

You carve again and again,

Even when nothing's left.