Her hair, once ebony, was now only black.

Her eyes, once emeralds, now a simple green.

And her beauty was now average,

No longer a sight to be seen.

Her head, once full of wisdom,

Now filled with petty thoughts.

How could this be the person

Over which men had always fought?

Who was this stranger

Looking back at her from the mirror?

Who was this stranger

Who she'd invited over to dinner?

Was the mirror broken,

And reflected back wrong things?

Or was she the one who was broken,

In which case she wanted to grow wings,

And fly up to heaven,

To see her family and friends,

And go back to that world of pretend,

They had played in when they were young.

And all this that had gone wrong –

Could it be undone?