For many,
I am just an object —
A thing that shows reflection,
That breaks when anger is thrown,
That helps with selfies,
That assists in dressing up well.

But there’s a side no one sees:
I help build their confidence,
I make them feel beautiful,
I help them reverse safely,
Reflecting both their presence and pain.

I listen to their talks,
Their silent stares, their tears.
I’m there through their highs and lows,
Feeling their every emotion
Without ever saying a word.

And yet,
I’m just an object
Lying in a corner.
Forgotten.
Until needed again.