In the mirror he keeps
there is a man
made entirely of intention.

He means well.
He tries hard.
He is misunderstood.

The mirror is polished daily.

Every sharp word
wiped away.
Every outburst
smoothed into stress.
Every fracture
reframed as circumstance.

In that glass
he remains
a good man.

Meanwhile the people
standing outside it
learn a different version.

The one who raised his voice.
The one who rewrote the moment.
The one who made the damage
belong to someone else.

But mirrors are loyal things.

They hold the version
that keeps the story clean.

And inside that glass
he is still
the good man.