Reflection

The Glass Reflection stares back,
Warped with insecurities,
Twisted by hands that were never mine.

I fold myself smaller, hoping to vanish,
apologies pressed into my palms,
A quiet habit I never meant to keep—
And one I can’t seem to break.

The Weight of Expectations sneers:
“be softer, be less, be easier to love”
Yet I swallow it whole
Masking the burden behind an empty stare
Letting it settle in my bones.

But something I didn’t seem to grasp
Was that bones shatter under too much pressure
So instead, I learn.

I learn to stand without shrinking
I learn to say my name without apology
To meet my gaze in the mirror,
without looking away.

And when the whispers return,
I don’t swallow them down with regret
But rather I let them speak,
mock me with every fiber they had.

Then I let them go,
Watch them unravel,
weaken,
collapse beneath their own empty threats.

Because this time,
the only voice that stays,
the only voice that matters
Is Mine.