I'm not particularly good at writing, but here's a random write I came up with.
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Once there was a little girl.
A pretty thing she was.
She dressed herself in lace and bows,
Curled her hair, smelled like rose.
Once there was an old lady,
A scary thing she was.
She dressed in rags and table cloth,
Hair was undone, smelled like tar.
The old lady met
A pretty little thing while strolling in the woods.
They chatted and the lady said
" Come, take this".
Out of the rags she took,
A mirror, shiny and clean.
Polished, well-framed, Victorian style,
Passed it to the child.
Without thinking, she took it over.
Said her adieus and returned happy.
From then the mirror to her was,
The most sacred precious thing.
Daily she looked at self, and smiled at the sight she saw.
Day by day, she grew and changed.
And so the mirror did.
At 10, she stole a penny from
Her mother's kitchen table.
In the mirror when she saw,
Her thumb falling apart.
At 15, she made a promise
To her childhood friend.
Then she broke the vow she made,
Without any care.
In the mirror when she saw,
Her pinky dropped to the ground.
At 20, she told lies after
Lies
To everyone she knew,
To get her pretty clothes and shoes,
To match the pretty she knew.
In the mirror when she saw,
Her mouth drooped to a corner.
At 30 and 40, she lost herself
In a material world.
She took all the time in the world
To dress herself in powder.
In the mirror when she saw,
Her face sagged and wrinkled.
At 50 and 60, she sneered at all
The young and the happy.
She took man after man,
Never married as a Ho.
Laced herself up with red corsets,
Smoked multiple cigs.
In the mirror when she saw,
Clothes turning into rags.
At 70, she who have been
Abandoned and treated as an
Outcast
Lived a life alone.
In the mirror when she saw,
The old lady she once knew.
Once there was a little girl.
A pretty thing she was.
She dressed herself in lace and bows,
Curled her hair, smelled like rose.
Once there was an old lady,
A scary thing she was.
She dressed in rags and table cloth,
Hair was undone, smelled like tar.
The old lady met
A pretty little thing while strolling in the woods.
At 80, she lost herself
In a web of remorse and guilt.
She cried tears that no one cared.
No one cared at all.
In the mirror when she saw,
Her eyes dropped with tears streaming out.
They chatted and the lady said
"Come, take this."
Without thinking, she took it over.
Said her adieus and returned happy.
She never heard the old lady say,
"The mirror, beware of it".
With that her head rolled off.
