I wish I chose to go
bite the bullet,
get out of here
but July was such a lifetime ago
and I have no time for regrets.

Safe in my cocoon, my little shell
scared of your reaction
a blank stare, a question
of my self, who am I?

What am I doing here
I am trying to find
the pieces of me left behind
I think you may have them
secure in your small palms.