Why do I feel I know the stranger in my mirror
Half the time he smiles, the other half he's wearing tears
Why have the paths he's chosen left him to fall behind
Why is being alone, sometimes just not worth a pure mind
Why does he feel his life's a game of pretend,
Or who he is today is another product of a friend.
Should he try the mainstream and let the chips fall,
Or stick with his straight way, alone but so tall.
For the answer to these questions I wait,
Who will he be as he crumbles his remains expose me.

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