Alone with My Reflection

I stand before the mirror, gaze soft and slow,
A reflection of myself I think I know.
The features gentle, the lines so neat,
A face that feels complete, sweet, and discreet.
But the moment I turn to the camera’s stare,
The calm shatters into sharp despair.

Suddenly, I’m not what I seem to be,
The angles betray the image of me.
Every photo tells a story unclear,
One I never expected, one I fear.
How do I appear to the world outside?
Do they see the flaws I desperately hide?

I wonder if you’ve felt this too,
Seen a picture, a version of you,
That feels unfamiliar, distant, and strange,
As if you’ve somehow rearranged.
You smile for the world, but inside you weep,
Worrying how their judgments will creep.
Am I beautiful? Am I enough?
Why must self-love feel so tough?

We all wear masks to face the day,
But what happens when they fade away?
When the camera shows the truth we dread,
The cracks and lines we never said?
We’re left to wonder, to question, to doubt,
What others see when we are without.
Do they notice the shift in our smile?
Do they watch us, judging all the while?

You look at your photos, I look at mine,
We both search for some trace of design,
That says, “Yes, you’re fine. You’re perfectly you.”
But all we find is a view askew.
Perhaps you see your skin too pale,
Your nose too wide, your confidence frail.
Maybe your eyes don’t shine the same,
And suddenly, you’re trapped in shame.

We share this weight, this heavy load,
Of fearing how the world will decode
Our faces, our forms, our fragile hearts,
Picking apart the imperfect parts.
Do they see beauty in the scars we bear,
Or do they simply stop and stare?
It’s a question that haunts us all,
No matter how tall or how small.

In every crowd, behind every face,
There’s someone questioning their place.
Someone worried their smile might crack,
That they’ll be seen and can’t turn back.
We live in a world of mirrors and glass,
Reflecting versions we hope will pass.
But when the glass is harsh and cold,
We shrink inside, we lose our hold.

I know you’ve stood where I now stand,
Fearing the weight of judgment’s hand.
You’ve questioned how you’re viewed,
Wondering if your beauty’s been misconstrued.
But what if I told you, we all feel this way?
That each of us doubts in some form or array?
What if I said, I see your grace,
Beyond the lines etched on your face?

We are more than the shapes we hold,
More than the stories the photos have told.
We are laughter, we are tears,
We are strength and all our fears.
The camera may show what it chooses to see,
But it can never capture all of me—or you.
For inside lies something pure and bright,
A beauty that no lens can rewrite.

When I look at you, I see a soul,
Not broken parts, but a brilliant whole.
Your smile, your laugh, the light in your eyes,
That’s what I remember, that’s what never dies.
And if you look at me the same,
You’ll see a heart, not just a frame.

So when we stand before the lens again,
Let’s remind ourselves, we’re more than skin.
More than the angles, the lines that bend,
We’re souls that shine, that never end.
Let’s look with love, not with despair,
Knowing we’re beautiful beyond compare.

Because in the end, we’re all the same,
Seeking love beyond the name.
And though we fear how others see,
The truth is, we’re all just trying to be free.
Free from doubt, free from pain,
Free to see ourselves again.

So as you stand and I stand too,
Let’s remember: we’re more than just the view.
For in our hearts, we hold a light,
That outshines every wrong, every slight.
And together, we’ll rise above,
And see ourselves through eyes of love.