mirror, mirror

mmMirror, mirror on the wall,
couldn’t you just make me tall?
Thinner, too, yes, that’d be great,
with abs of steel to compensate . . .

For all I lack (it is a lot),
maybe then I would be “hot,”
worthy of the magazines,
so full of pretty, lovely things.

Or what if you just made me blind—
could we then be of one mind?
For no matter how I try,
what I see just makes me cry.

After all, you know it’s true,
looks are the important view.
It matters not what lies inside:
Beauty isn’t one to hide.

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