She’s way cooler than me,
finding ways and means to steal glimpses of light whenever she can.
She’s way stronger than I am.
She probably wonders why I love the dark so much,
secretly wishing she was the reason I resented the essence of light.
She stretches and shrinks with streetlights and car lamps
yearning to find out why I’m always alone,
strolling, a lone ranger, for miles on end.
She strays a lot, even in the darkest of places.
She echoes my fears sometimes, her dim figure
boldly outlining the strengths I keep hidden.
She’s more to me than a mere silhouette;
She’s bolder than I’ll ever be.
If my shadow were human, what would she be like?
Will she be everything I’m not?
Will she stand tall for me whenever I cower like she’s supposed to?
She most probably would; she won’t have much of a choice.
But she’d resent me; my mere existence.
She’ll imitate my actions in anger,
crying for release from a life such as this.
If my shadow were human, would she be proud of who I’ve become?
Proud enough to be attached to myself?
Everything that we see is a shadow cast by that which we do not see
– Martin Luther King Jnr.
Thanks for reading!💙