People have often told me I am self-conscious,
but I always refuse and disagree,
for at the end of the day why be conscious,
when I am not you but me.
Yet sometimes, I do question myself,
perhaps they are right,
perhaps they see through me themselves,
before I could see my own light.
So yes, I suppose I am self-conscious,
not conscious due to self,
but because of others around me.
Yes, I am conscious, because of how people look at me
how the sneer and bicker at my emotions.
How they giggle behind my back
and how they comment on the way I stumble on words.
I am conscious because of the way people comment
on my life, my words, my looks.
The way they complain about my successes,
and rejoice over my fails.
But even with this poem, nothing will change,
nothing has ever before, nor will ever after.
These verses will not sow seeds in any hearts-
any hearts other than mine.
So, the next time I step out, will continue gazing down
and walk speedily, drawing my tongue back,
so, people do not question me
or call me conscious.
Because yes, I suppose I am self-conscious,
not conscious due to self,
but because of others around me.