Constantly dodging your soul in a mirror, 

Because you cannot face yourself, 

Knowing what you do is not admirable nor real. 

Faking it, a constant need to pose as someone else, 

Always “on” but never true.

Looking for something that can never be found in that way, 

But fearing letting go of the cultivated image. 

Afraid to be labeled a loser. 

But what is a loser, if not you who gives up yourself to “win,” 

You who sell yourself out, 

Sell yourself to others, 

Mock those with self-respect as you’ve given yours away,

Sacrificing every moral fiber to have what you don’t actually need? 

Where is the victory in it? 

What kind of life is it to hide your true being in shadows, 

Not allowed to see the light for fear of rejection, 

And having to play a part always, day in, day out, 

For nothing of genuine value.