Distortion, contortion,
My face really aches
Magazine pages
You know the faces are fake.
The rich, the famous
And some in-between
You have seen them yourself
You know what I mean!
Needles, large scalpels,
A surgeon with pluck
Dives into those wrinkles
Wide enough to drive a truck.
Elasticity void,
Folds overlap,
Bags hung under eyes
Lined geographical map!
A little, maybe,
To freshen the cheek
Not too much mind
Or the prognosis is bleak.
Over-plumped lips
Staples behind the ears
An alarming expression
Don't do it my dears!
