Someone Is Following Me

A figure trails the path I tread

Not flesh

Not bone

Not born or bred

It’s just the echo of what I’ve shed  

The part of me I left for dead

It moves like ink behind my name

A shadow studying its claim 

It follows not from fear or blame

But from the shape I never became

Each step I take rewrites the air

A script of choices

Thin and bare

Behind me walks the one I wear

The self I almost chose to bear

I turn

The past pretends to sleep

I walk  

Its symbols start to creep

It gathers all I failed to keep

A harvest grown from secrets deep

It’s not a ghost

It’s not a guide

It’s every truth 

I pushed aside

It’s hunger with no mouth to hide

The mirror I have never tried

Sometimes it brushes at my sleeve

A sign of what I might believe

It asks which version I’ll retrieve

Which mask I’m willing to unweave

And still the road repeats its plea

Each corner bends its geometry

No matter who I try to be

Someone is following me