Self promotion

I polish my name like silver,  

shine it in the mirror,  

tilt it so the light catches—  

see how it gleams,  

how it reflects back at me.  

I sell the story of myself  

in a hundred glossy lines,  

each one a promise,  

each one a soft whisper:  

“Look, I’m here.  

I’m worth the watch.”  

But behind the mirror,  

the silence holds its breath.  

It knows the cost of showing up—  

the emptiness when the crowd’s gone,  

the echo of my own name,  

repeated like a prayer  

I’ve learned to say.