She realised, at age thirteen,
Why boys would stop and stare
Her dewy skin, the golden sheen
That graced her velvet hair

So she bought herself a mirror
And displayed it, so she could
Bring her beauty ever nearer
It excelled; it understood

For years, it was delightful
Showcasing that youthful face
Though she grew vain and spiteful,
She charmed lovers with her grace

Yet, over time, I'm sad to say
The face will often show
(On top of the basic display)
The soul that lurks below

This girl, with such an ugly heart
Began to project her hate
Onto herself – so now departs
Her beauty... it's too late