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.