Smoke and Mirrors

The starns of smoke that poured from her lips
Blend with the atomosphere so dimly lit;
The sight of such a scene would make one lovesick,
For it were as if her beauty was some were some sort of trick.

The air of her importance, vanity, and fashion
Are comparable to a publicly-adored facism.
She follows the rules as strictly as possible
to make herself lookas good as a model.

She spends hours at a time to look her best,
She relieves herself with ciggrettes,
There's hope that they will make her forget
All the mistakes and all the regrets.

Hiding all of her problems like they're just delusions
Behind smoke and mirrors--the perfect illusion.