Down far below in the cellar,

There is a window

I look out somtimes.

And I see my reflection-

My soul much like my foe-

Staring back at my imperfection.

It is here now in this cellar,

I know what I am not.

I am not the labels or the masks,

The clothes that I've been bought.

I am like a child, confused by the tasks

Of what I will become.

But for today I know I'm down- in this cellar.