Of course she knows that vanity
is hardly an admirable trait
Afterall she never had any respect
for Dorian Gray
And sometimes it is just so hard to accept
But time will surely cut to the core,
furrowed lines and sagging jowls
bloated cheeks and plastered streaks

Certainly the facade has begun to crumble
Yet no wisdom seems to take its place
But how can she continue to be so shallow?

But maybe I have never suffered so much
And whether it is a conscious form of thought
or just an indelible torpid pain
It always seems to hang right there

A nagging insecurity
and a loss of self esteem
But was it ever a matter to be fancied
in the first place?
Because it has consistently failed to make her
anything that could even remotely be called human

A highly suspect air of superiority
has really begun to stink up this rotten joint
Youth will fade
and it is only on this that you can depend

So what will begin to fill this desolate void?
Emptiness hangs heavy in this rank musty room
A porcelain doll, a tempest in a tea shop
It is time to weather this god awful storm
You would think that she would take the high road
But a finely veiled cruelty darts like a highly poisonous snake
Of course it is a distraction
It is a way to avoid her tragic pain

Because humanity has never been her strong suit
Like a viper she will fight for anything that will feed her failing ego
And trampling on the downtrodden is just her only way
She always speaks like an aristocrat full of eminence and false pretense
But anyone can see right through it
But if you attempt to bring a light to her flat insipid character
you can be assured of a very violent response

She will go straight for the jugular vein
Because the means to feed her insatiable quest
has only become so much more difficult for her to obtain
You might call her a short-sighted junkie
And she has become disenchanted with her favorite mirror

Oh man! We wish we could help
But she rewards kindness with acrimony
And it is so difficult to be a dreadful donkey punch
Call it sadomasochism if you must
The need to belittle, to degrade and demean
are such a pathetic bag of tricks
But they only mask the great agony that she must be in

I certainly wish that an olive branch would help
But in the past such attempts at reconciliation
She has only chosen to turn away and spurn
Recognizing other alternatives is the only other option
But I am pessimistic dejected and dismayed
Wherever I look there appears to be no rational place
to which I can quickly turn