Upon the glass, I fix my gaze,
A swirling storm of thoughts ablaze,
Reflections mixed, emotions soar,
A artwork of self, I can't ignore.

Sometimes I see a vibrant soul,
With strength and grace, I feel whole,
Confidence blooms, like flowers in spring,
I spread my wings and start to sing.

But then, a doubt creeps from the dark,
A nagging voice, a cruel remark,
Imperfections magnified, flaws arise,
I'm lost within those critical eyes.

In every curve and line I trace,
A battle wages for my embrace,
Acceptance wrestles with disdain,
An inner struggle causing pain.

Yet, through the haze, I start to see,
The beauty in my complexity,
For every scar and every tear,
Are part of me, not things to fear.

The mirror shows a journey's trace,
Each step I took, each fall, each race,
And in those eyes, a story told,
Of strength and growth, both young and old.

I learn to love the flaws I find,
To be gentle with my heart and mind,
For self-esteem is not a quest,
But a tender love, a gentle nest.

In this reflection, I now see,
A being with both highs and plea,
Embracing all that I've become,
A masterpiece, not fully done.

And so, I face the glass with care,
With self-compassion, I declare,
I am a work of art in progress,
With mixed emotions, I'll progress.
© Peta-Gay Powell