Wicked Cool

I'm a writer, a poet, always carrying my poetic license,

But I pretend to be cool, fool some people sometimes.

When I admit it, people I know say I'm fine.

I've a mirror, so I know that. Cool's not so quickly defined,

So let's ask the mirror. Come, you know half the lines!

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,

Who's the fairest of them all?”

Then the mirror is heard to howl,
“What's fair elsewhere, here is foul,

So I don't know, but you'll do for now.”