She paints the black upon each silken lash

to cover ev’ry truth upon each hair.

She stains her freckled skin a stark bone ash

in hopes to see a lady strong and fair.

But rather than a damsel perfect pure,

the mirror finds the truth beneath the face.

It sees her hollow pleas to find the cure

to the fierce drug consuming this damned place.

Consumed minds paint a blank white crystal net.

Consumed minds paint atop each little woe.

She strives to rid the drug, to not forget

that she does not require a painted glow.

She tries but hides and paints her lips on too,

then looks at her reflection, “Who are you?”