I've watched a girl do her hair a hundred times over,

Poking and prodding at her curls so it's just right.

She does her mascara on the bus, propping her phone up on the window ledge She wears lip gloss,

Making sure to reapply as needed.

And it seems she never stops staring in her own mirror,

A mirror only she can see,

And a mirror only she cares to look into.

If her false nails are just perfect, If her crop top suits her liking.

She walks like a model because she thinks she is one.

Though,

Dare I say,

A golden mirror,

Cannot frame the ugliest of things.

Her imaginary mirror is clean and shiny enough,

To where she doesn't realize she's even staring into one.

Her earrings are shiny,

To all but those who care to look.

Her makeup looks perfect, unless you stare for too long.

She's perfect to herself, And to most others,

Until she is not.