Baskadia

i feel the mirror is vague,

For it has empty lies fixed to present someone different

Killing my behaviour faster than plague

And piercing through the warmth sent.

Beauty calls for existence

Because As I am here present they call it past tense.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall"

Keep my image up to sell,

For i know I am not cute to all

But my temper as hot as hell.

I pose like "the man"

The same one.