My job is to show, but never reveal. I know not the truth, though I cannot shield You from what’s hidden within. All your secrets are spilled onto display. No one’s told me, so I really can’t say Anything to assuage your doubts. I illuminate for whatever’s near. Surrounded by knowledge, but always in fear I am missing the punchline. Others use me for what I can provide. They never let me in on what they find Out about themselves for now. Without this glass, then what is my value? Voiceless - just a simple, shiny statue Without my autonomy. Is this what it’s like to be wholly known? Unceremoniously, crudely shown All my insecurities? Such is the life of a static mirror. Cursed to reflect feelings and make clearer But never to ever feel.