Mirror Mirror, I know you can Speak.

I told you never to look me in the face like that again. I remember that moment, so well. Do I need to remind you? With your dirty acne populated face you dared to ask me how you looked. As usual I was silent. I stared at you and continued wishing I was given a tongue. You filled your face with those coloured powders and I made you believe you looked good so you stupidly walked into the streets so full of yourself. Most admired you, I suppose. If only the rain fell and washed away that transient beauty powder you bought at the market. You look like a beast without them; the lip colours, the eye colours, the facial colours... the manufacturers did you good! They gave you things to hide your ugliness. But, but what if you get married to one of the men you attract with your fake beauty? Will you wear those things in your sleep? And if you take a shower?

Look at you! Looking into me and asking me questions when you know I can’t speak. You are able to see through me to see yourself, why don’t you ever look through yourself to see yourself. I only show you what you want to see, I deceive you...