If I were likened to a river then I’d be a shallow pool.
On the surface I do shimmer, but then sometimes, not at all.
A hundred different faces a thousand different traits,
What you see inspires love and in others it’d be hate.

If seeing gives you proof then you’d surely heed my call.
But close your eyes a moment and you might just let me fall.
Would I hurt, would I break – or would I simply lose my shape?
And even glue would fail to fix, my sad and sorry little bits.

If I were to lighten up a room, I wouldn’t be the source.
I’d only show the surface, that’s on the outside of course.
To reveal your inner-self you have to know what’s true.
My question isn’t what am I, but what the hell are you?

Hint: Inanimate object.

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Just something I wrote for Uni. I wanted to put another verse in there but never found the time. Anyone guess what the object I’m describing is supposed to be?