I am a tattered rag in a Calcutta slum
I am a battered hag from Hull and then some

I am a feather on the duck who steals my chips
I’m the leaf that falls on my leg as I lick my lips

I’m the kid in pink who’s thinking of jumping in
I’m the picnicking parent in panic with sauce on his chin

I am the windblown remains of yesterday’s news
I’m the sighs of the lover who doesn’t know which path to choose

I’m the world that I witness, without me the universe dies
I’m so scared to turn over, to lie down, to close my eyes

(I’m not really, it’s only a poem, silly!)