knees bent, body leaning forward,

hips raised slightly higher than her

shoulders.

One leg closer to the starting line

while the other farther away.

she pushed her body at the sound

of this whistling wind

and began her race.

the stuttered speech, the shaking

hands

the serpent, the dancing shadow

away, away.

she is the cold feeling at the back

of your mind when you sit alone in the

dark.

the one asking you to join her in song.

the shadowed figure staring back at you,

sitting still.

she dances when you are not looking.

the whispers, the slight movement of the

rocking chair,

the creak of your room floor,

the slightly opened closet door,

the face in the mirror.

she is with you,

she is calling.

I am the timid, the one that stands stoic

but whose insides drown in crumble

the treacherous, exploiting you when you are

most vulnerable.

a poison seeping through your body

rendering you incapable of doing.

a serpent putting you in a position of trust

and betraying it.

I  am the growing feeling of doubt

the  shaking hands, the stuttered

speech.

I am your precipitated breath

The sweat sitting just above your

brow

I am your shaking hands

The stuttered speech seeping

Through your entire body as you

Stand, shaken,

The faint sensation reaching your toes

till it feels as if you can no longer stand.

I am your anticipated future, your

Unknown.