~ The Mirror’s Edge ~

Is a woman's soul bound to the mirror's glass?
Her identity trapped in the image she sees?
Is it tied to the reflection which disgusts her eyes?
Brainwashed into believing society's lies?

When less than outer perfection is shown,
That inner critic can be so unkind.
This shell, this body, I'd like to disown;
Seems like it's always "too fat" in this mind.

When diet and exercise fail to cause change,
A woman starts looking for other recourse.
How many women have died from those pills?
Convinced they would cure all their self-image ills?

Why can't we be satisfied with ourselves?
Can our minds and our bodies ever be friends?
Striving to be the women on magazine shelves,
Driven to extremes and unhealthy ends.

Speak not to me of shallow double standards,
This looking-glass prisoner knows all too well.
If womens' worth is only a surface virtue of skin,
Then how to find peace with these bodies we're in?

There are those who say they don't mind a plump form,
Who seem so accepting of our real women's curves,
But see if they're willing to give up their porn,
And the truth is revealed, for the purpose it serves.

Love and Lust are two very different things.
Why can't a woman be deserving of both?
We can love the women that we are inside.
But lust is for women who never have to hide

From the mirror's edge.

~ C.L.R. ~ © 2008