Mirror

I stared ahead
at a girl
with curly brown hair
dyed blue at the tips.
The dye made her hair
frizzled
and rough to the touch.
Oh, how she wishes to get it back,
all straight and smooth.
Nothing but a desire.

I stared at the distorted features
of
this girl in front of me.
She looked a pain,
a beggar for sympathy,
a useless brat 
craving for pity.

I stared into her eyes,
once remembering
how bright they would shine,
galaxies of all different shades.
Now they sat there 
as two lumpy stones,
dragging the weight of her eyelids,
drooping them down.

The girl in front of me
was no one
but myself.
A hopeless loser,
crying in front of the mirror.

A mirror;
A truth to show you
who you are.
A truth we deny
but can't help accepting
the flaws
the imperfections
the way we abuse makeup
and plastic surgery.

All those useless desires we wish for,
however,
no one is ever perfect.  
And mirrors prove that
we are all neglected failures.