In my mirror I see a clown,
Juggling his fate upon the hope of entertaining his captivated audience.
Performing circus tricks with a painted smile across his animated visage.

In my mirror I see a soldier,
    Dauntless and Dedicated
To dutifully serving his school.
The soldier never tires,
Never slacks,
Never rests,
Never stops - until his duties are done.

In my mirror I see an explorer,
seeking adventure and freedom from the concrete jungle, whose cement vines bind round the sinews of his heart until he trapped
Trying to break away from:
Oppression, and the Syntheticity of suburbia.

In my mirror I see a ghost.
Dead to the world, yet still cursed to wander its lonely alleys,
In search of liberation from social purgatory.

In my mirror I see a learner,
Clean-shaven and well brushed.
His face well scrubbed though the tell-tale pimple betrays him to adolescence.
The student has no substance...
What you see is what you get,
And what you get is well -
Whatever you want.

In my mirror, late at night,
When all have drifted off to sleep,
I see a boy, who finally takes off his many masks,
And reveals his true identity to the trustworthy mirror (whom he has known long enough to keep his secrets)
He is no longer:
The clown,
Or soldier,
Or explorer,
Or ghost or learner,
He is me.