Personas vacillate 'tween what is good,

And what hibernates in the abyss' glare;

Pleasant masks that exude a cordial air,

Constructing Selves like totem poles of wood.

I've strained to craft the Self I've learned I should,

Purged my Libido to live, I'd declare.

Though my intellect may prick all those bare,

My brilliance never misunderstood.

Deep down inside where Freud would see the dark,

Lies peacefully my Shadow, clear and nude,

Not one to lie or cheat, nor be deceived.

The lack of diff'ring 'tween the two is stark,

And while I do not mean to be so crude,

It is my True Self that I have achieved.