I look at the glass, but it don’t look back, just a hollow frame with a world gone black. Who is this? The boy or the man I fear? A stranger staring with eyes unclear. I trace the cracks like veins on my skin, every line a story of places I’ve been. The fights, the nights where the silence screamed, a life where the pain replaced my dreams. They say reflection’s supposed to show your truth, but all I see is the ghost of my youth. A kid who learned how to fake a grin, while the world outside kept caving in. I wore masks like armor, played the part, hid my tears in the shadows of a broken heart. I told myself, “Keep pushing, stay strong,” but how do you heal when the hurt’s so long? The mirror don’t lie, but it twists the view, shows me pieces of myself I never knew. The anger, the fear, the cracks in my soul, the hunger for a life that makes me whole. I ask, “Who are you?” but there’s no reply, just a reflection that’s tired of the lies. Am I a sinner for the things I’ve done, or a fighter who’s survived the barrel of a gun? Am I a coward for the tears I’ve shed, or a dreamer chasing hope in a world that’s dead? The glass don’t answer; it just stares back, but I see now, I’m not made to crack. I’m the scars and the lessons, the highs and lows, the seed that grows even in the snow. The boy in the mirror ain’t perfect, it’s true, but he’s alive, and that’s enough to push through. So I nod at the face with a faint little grin, this war ain’t over, but I’m ready to begin. With fists unclenched and my soul laid bare, I’m stepping forward—ain’t no time to despair.