Lovely Little Powder Rooms

Oh, sweet powder room,
screaming in your vanity.
Perfection for you,
and critisism for me.

The bottles of hair-dye
all lined up in cute rows.
They sit so sweetly
in the place where tears flow.

Mascara wands glisten,
with hopes to fix your tired face.
You're screaming, "Make me pretty
so I can forget this ugly place."

The mirrors scream your faults,
and you're crying out loud.
Choking in self doubt
and sweet hairspray clouds.

There's a thousand other faces
reflected in your eyes.
They're just so damn perfect
and you don't understand why.

Curling irons burn
and the razors do shear.
Oh, sweet powder room,
just one place to fear.

**can you tell i'm suffering from literary block?**