What the Mirror Won’t Show

writer name : Nadeem shah

The mirror gleams with polished lies,

A flawless mask before my eyes.

It shows the hair, the lips, the skin—

But not the wars I fight within.

It doesn’t show the sleepless nights,

Or tears I’ve wept beneath dim lights.

It hides the doubt behind my smile,

The scars I’ve borne for quite a while.

It cannot see the heavy weight

Of choices made, of hearts that break.

It does not know the strength it takes

To rise again when my soul aches.

It won’t reveal the dreams I lost,

Or count the days they came at cost.

It hides the cracks beneath my feet—

The places pain and purpose meet.

It does not echo words unsaid,

The battles raging in my head.

It cannot paint my will to try,

Each time I fell but chose to fly.

It shows a frame, a shallow shell,

But not the storms I’ve faced in hell.

It sees the skin, but not the flame—

The quiet strength that bears my name.

The mirror sees a tidy face,

Unwrinkled brow, composed with grace.

But does it see the girl who stood,

While life erased what good it could?

Does it see the fists once clenched in rage,

The quiet wars fought off the stage?

The moments grief became my friend,

When hope was something I’d pretend?

It never saw my hollow stare

As loneliness filled every chair.

Or how I learned to breathe again

When every breath recalled the pain.

It cannot measure how I cope

By stitching wounds with thread of hope.

It cannot count the silent screams

Or chase me through my haunted dreams.

But I remember—I have known

How strength is forged when you’re alone.

How every time I broke apart,

I mended pieces with my heart.

I’ve held my ground in unseen fights

And carried burdens out of sight.

I’ve learned to find the light I need

In moments when my soul would bleed.

The mirror will not show the grace

Of all I’ve built from my own space.

It can’t reflect my quiet might

That wakes with me each morning light.

It cannot show the healing path

I walked alone through sorrow’s wrath.

It does not see the love I give,

The lives I’ve touched, the will to live.

It cannot frame the truths I keep—

The fears that guard the edge of sleep.

It cannot weigh my earned belief

That joy can still arise from grief.

What the mirror shows is but a part,

A surface sheen—yet not my heart.

It lacks the depth to see me whole,

To glimpse the fire inside my soul.

For every wrinkle, every line,

Was etched by strength that still is mine.

And every silence that I bear

Is filled with prayers I do not share.

It cannot see the girl who bled

From every word she never said.

It cannot hold my trembling hands

When no one else could understand.

But I can see beyond the glass—

To who I am, to what will last.

I see the courage in my chest,

The battles lost, and all the rest.

I see the woman who remains

Through every heartbreak, loss, and strain.

The one who stands, no matter how

The world may try to break her now.

I see the heart that will not yield

Though no applause will grace the field.

The mirror shows me just a face—

But I have lived in deeper space.

So let it shine with fleeting grace,

A polished mask in fragile place.

But I will wear what’s mine to show—

The fire the world may never know.

For beauty lies beyond the skin,

In strength that grows from deep within.

And though the mirror cannot see—

I know the truth of being me.