It always happens that way.
My distracted self and the passing of time.
More faces and more faces
and eventually the loss of mine
twisting
because anxiety never keeps a frown.
I saw you again and know this:
I see you limp on by once again,
metaphorically, of course.
You don't know me but you know
something's not right.
Yet I fake a million smiles
just to catch your eye.