Every time I look
In the self-conscious mirror
The only thing I see
Is destruction and terror
I brush and I brush
To get my hair right
But I reach for perfection
But its nowhere in sight
I splash on my blusher
I smother it on
But it wont do the trick
Something is wrong
I paint on my lipstick
But it doesn’t work
The smell of insecurity
Is around and it lurks
I put shadow upon
My intricate eyes
To try and cover
My memories and lies
Finally I reach for
The flannel and poof
I rub off my make up
And uncover the truth
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Deep stuff here that works really well - l Iove the mention of smells, the things makeup can't cover... do have a look at Cia Frizzell's 'Everything Is Beauty' on here, a similar pitch but executed differently.