Mirrors are the only truth-givers I know. Liars, the rest of you, who try to sell your words in pretty, pink boxes to those willing to waste a little money. I'm not fising for your compliments. Don't buy me with your words; you can't have me. Pug-nosed, red-faced and eyes red-rimmed, tear streaks and band-aids; what the mirror shows me.
It really isn't so bad once you get used to it. It really isn't so bad when it's what you look at every day. It really isn't so bad...
Don't speak the words you think I want to hear. Sentences drowned in acids of "pretty", and "cute", and "beautiful" aren't the truth. Give me the truth.