I peer at myself, the one who is hiding beneath her hair.

All I see is a girl that I've never laid eyes on. 

Who is this child with the mischievous glint in her eye?

Who is this child with rosy blushing cheeks?

 

At the party when I walked, all the heads turned,

they all thought I was some cherished princess who

was looking for her dearest Prince Charming.

Wrong they were, for I haven't any magic mirrors,

carriages, mice, pumpkins, or lamps.

 

All those eyes only saw the laughing girl,

the girl who does not fluster while dancing,

the girl who isn't afraid to eat her share,

the girl who is not scared of what her future holds.

 

Only I and the bathroom mirror before me know the truth.

The real truth, the one without make-up, dresses, and shoes.

The truth without the faked smiles and laughs.

The verity, including the whispered and stuttered words

to people who I yearn to talk to.

 

But here I still stand, awaiting in front of my mirror for the truth.

I remove the dainty shoes that made me light on my feet.

Slowly, I slip out of the dress that portrayed me as radiant as the sun,

then I step into the shirt and shorts that were meant for me.

 

With a silken cotton ball, I remove the rosy blush that led

everyone to believe that I was joyous and happy.

My unstable hands reach for the tissues that wipe away the eyeliner 

that led folks to think I was awake and active.

 

I towel the fine powder off of my face,

the powder that led the crowd to think I was glowing with young love,

when I actually sit here and cry over a heartbroken mindset.

I shake the towel and watch the powdery dust fall to my feet.

 

With a dampened wipe, I efface the cheap one dollar concealer

that hid all of my emotions from the crowd.

I swab the eye shadow off my face so that I can let my eyes drift once again.

The eye shadow announced that I was alert to the party, 

the eye shadow said that I was there in body and mind.

 

Now here I stand before the mirror that sees all,

but all I see is a girl, a plain girl with unruly black hair,

common mud- brown eyes, pale lips, and a complexion.

This plain girl stares back at me until I am forced to look down.

I peer at myself, the one who is hiding beneath her hair.

All I see is a girl that I've never laid eyes on. 

Who is this child with the mischievous glint in her eye?

Who is this child with rosy blushing cheeks?

 

At the party when I walked, all the heads turned,

they all thought I was some cherished princess who

was looking for her dearest Prince Charming.

Wrong they were, for I haven't any magic mirrors,

carriages, mice, pumpkins, or lamps.

 

All those eyes only saw the laughing girl,

the girl who does not fluster while dancing,

the girl who isn't afraid to eat her share,

the girl who is not scared of what her future holds.

 

Only I and the bathroom mirror before me know the truth.

The real truth, the one without make-up, dresses, and shoes.

The truth without the faked smiles and laughs.

The verity, including the whispered and stuttered words

to people who I yearn to talk to.

 

But here I still stand, awaiting in front of my mirror for the truth.

I remove the dainty shoes that made me light on my feet.

Slowly, I slip out of the dress that portrayed me as radiant as the sun,

then I step into the shirt and shorts that were meant for me.

 

With a silken cotton ball, I remove the rosy blush that led

everyone to believe that I was joyous and happy.

My unstable hands reach for the tissues that wipe away the eyeliner 

that led folks to think I was awake and active.

 

I towel the fine powder off of my face,

the powder that led the crowd to think I was glowing with young love,

when I actually sit here and cry over a heartbroken mindset.

I shake the towel and watch the powdery dust fall to my feet.

 

With a dampened wipe, I efface the cheap one dollar concealer

that hid all of my emotions from the crowd.

I swab the eye shadow off my face so that I can let my eyes drift once again.

The eye shadow announced that I was alert to the party, 

the eye shadow said that I was there in body and mind.

 

Now here I stand before the mirror that sees all,

but all I see is a girl, a plain girl with unruly black hair,

common mud- brown eyes, pale lips, and a complexion.

This plain girl stares back at me until I am forced to look down.