Am I who I claim to be?

In the mirror's gaze, I find, A stranger's eyes, not mine. Familiar, yet unknown, they stare, In silent soliloquy, a vacant glare. We've met before, or so it seems, In fleeting dreams, or forgotten streams. This visage, foreign, not of home, In every glass, a chance to roam. From society's mold, I cannot flee, Its dying embers have sculpted me. Choices, hollow, echo in the void, Left by those who've come and destroyed. Alone we stand, the remnants of strife, Strangers to each other, strangers to life. Yet in this strangeness, we find our plea, Who are we, but a reflection of 'we'?