Vanity is what my Mother called the mirror resting against the wall.
She beat into me the ideals of beauty... till the marks reached down into my very core.
"Everything I do I do for you", became her flippant call-
Arms the wrapped around my neck, smothering, calling me a whore's burden.
Who'll lay claim?
None, I was the offspring of a wicked witch she said.
The blood dripped down and slithered onto the floor.
I waited, knife in hand, for the whole world to see who was truly the fairest of them all...