The Mirror

I hate the glass that waits for me,

It shows a face I wish not see.

Each glance becomes a quiet war,

A stranger staring from the door.

The room is still, the light is thin,

But all the noise begins within.

A thousand thoughts begin to stir,

All sharpened by that silent mirror.

It shows the cracks I try to hide,

The storms I bury deep inside.

No mask can fade, no lie grows clearer,

Than truth that lives inside a mirror.

So I walk past with lowered eyes,

Ignoring all the glass replies.

Because the thing I fear most here

Is knowing I’m the one in the mirror.