She's kind and careing,
She feels empathy too,
The blessing of her love
Is limited to few.

With hair red like fire,
Her eyes glisten and gleam,
Flawless in all ways,
Or so it may seem.

But she's a liar, a fraud,
She aims to decieve,
She hides like a child,
Under pressure she'll cleave.

Her insecurity grows
With each passing year,
As she struggles to conceal
The stains from each tear.

She changes her features,
No mercy will she give,
When destroying all evidence
That the Irish blonde ever lived.

What lies beneath her mask
A trusted few have seen,
Pictures are all that remember
What her reflection used to be.