Mirror, mirrorThis Englishman's tongue with which I speak may have lost its beauty, though its words encapsulate the honesty and lies of my hearts confusion and clarity.
Rhythm and rhyme considered bullshit in time. My amateur attempt acts as a transparent veil, under which hides this Punjaban's tale.
The subconscious encrypts both honesty and lies. Saved as one file in this Bank of Memories Brain. Accounts made and accounts lost. A reality is formed, though it is a truth lost.
So my fannying about has been stated, now it is time for my question to be debated...
Mirror, mirror on the wall, is Miss Sandeep the fairest of all?