Passenger

I am an impostor. There was a person inside Who felt my eyes, And told me I wouldn’t Make it back alive. I am ineffective. The autumn came through like Trains passing underground. I am late to the present; I am late to the waking; I am late to the person I was becoming Before I knew I was waiting. I am late to understanding what it takes To love something you so long have hated. I am outside looking in from a window At myself like a stranger. Who am I and what have I done? Who am I and what would I become? Without the knife and the night that came Like a train That I watched pass as I stood at the gate? I am estranged. You can’t love me because I'll never do the same.