(mirror mirror on the wall)
the mirror goes bored with the days
always answering the same questions
the queen's vanity and the king's greed
are the stone bricks of her imprisonment
but the mirror could not lie her way out
she is restless, body vibrating of force
pulling her in all directions of the world
a merry-go-round of desires and wishes
messy hands, messier mouths full
of falsified and omitted yearnings
dampened by the dark cravings for more
(humans are such feeble-minded creatures)
the mirror sighs and turns to her reflection
looking at the soul of her childhood
sold to the lives of the rich and fortunate
she despises the elite as much as she
hates the iron shackles attached to her wings
to be born a lower breed as a kingmaker
a sphere of a prism cut from diamonds
the mirror's truth always has a price