If I met myself
Walking down a dark street,
I wonder:
Would I tremble in fear,
Or run for dear life?
If I met myself
Eating at the corner cafe,
I wonder:
Would I sit in the farthest corner,
Or skip lunch that day?
If I met myself
Cowering in a dark corner,
I wonder:
Would I suck my thumb,
Or grow bumps on my skin?
Would I ever stop running
from myself, from myself?
Would I ever stop fearing
what I’ve become?
Or will I keep hiding
from myself?
