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.

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.