Man In The Mirror

Who's this man, I see in the mirror,
he looks so familiar to me.
He doesn't seem alive, he's surely not dead.
Is this what's called a zombie?

When he steps out of the mirror, I see a different man,
I see him all alive.
I see his joyous face, I see him conversing,
the poor man is so naive.

Cannot peep inside his credulous mind,
its circled by an inscrutable fence.
He dons a cloak of happiness, wears the mask of smile,
what's the reason for this pretence?

He returns to the mirror, a while after dusk,
I see him shedding his camouflage.
No one's there to hear him, none to console him,
there's no kind of entourage.

Why doesn't he cry, why not shed a tear?
How does he withstand all this tremor?
I'm devoid of any answer, even though I,
I am the man in the mirror.