I can be classy, clean, and clear.

I can be quite kind.

I can be as virtuous as Arete.

But one look in my reflection, she is the opposite of perfection.

She falls freely for tricks,

She’ll never show she’s shaken,

Instead, she demonstrates her dangerous disposition

A shield that protects the yells of enemies.

The musty smell dwells in this shell,

She is rude most times, and as sour as limes.

No regard for reality's replies,

Always saying what’s on her mind.

She tries to ignite the fire

Even when she has no such desire.

She thinks that the answer is somewhere among

But I was the answer in front of her all along.