Dear tormented reflection,
I’m sorry I haven’t the exotic features you desire.
From my lifeless matted locks to my blemish covered complexion,
I can’t seem to fix my inadequate beauty.
Blame it on my family genetics.
Sound accusations of hasty hearsay.
Now, let’s collaborate around the mirror.
Our little tradition so it appears.
With a fast hand,
I circle my areas of concern.
Soon, you are covered in green marks.
Eight maybe nine little changes –
What could be the harm?
However, I still see you cringe in sharp anguish.
The drama you generate clinging onto the backs of my heels.
You see, even with my lips stained in Red Delicious no. 4,
I’m afraid our state will be no different.
If I learn to accept the fun, genuine, lovable
Self I should see in you,
Then perhaps picture day won’t be so difficult.
