She picked up the mirror
Gazing at her lifeless face
up and down
searching for some small flaws easily fixed.

She picked out two or three
or two and a half somedays
yet, today, none could be sought.
The mirror seemed to be cursed
by providing no meticulous errors to be corrected.

She sighed and looked away
upon the dresser sat another instrument of disguise.
The feat of disguise is not commonly known
to the average Joe.
Yet, she knew the thieving skill to a T

She looked back at the mirror,
and still no fixable faults were found
She picked up the sterling nail scissors
and began to focus on the flaws she could not fix

She began trimming her eyebrows
for they always seemed to be unproportional
then, with little strokes
or notice,
she went deeper,
removing the skin from the bridge of the brow
She attempted to attain that perfect arch.

Then, she began trimming the small hairs outlining the face.
This, too, seemed useless
and she began cutting deeper to get to the roots.

Her hand began to glide inward to her face
first removing the exterior jut her cheekbone proposed
she quickly moved to the other
to create a perfect symmetry.
Then down to her chin,
which also seemed all too noticable.

Then her eyelashes,
seemed too long and uneven.
She then started to trim
those too inevitably to the core.

Her nose had too many blackheads
and thus she began to dig and scrape
until every last piece of dirt and oil
was unseen

She didn't touch her mouth
for, otherwise, she wouldn't be able to scream gracefully

Dropping the mirror to the ground in exhaustion,
she was perfect.

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