The caterpillar's reflection

I look at myself,
and I don't recognize myself.

The reflection watches me
in silence.
It doesn't judge me...
it just remembers.

That was me.
The one who was broken
and still smiled.

And I know...
that if I don't change,
I can become her again.

But I don't want to.
I can't.
The one who crawled
out of love or fear
is no longer useful to me.

I look at her one last time.
And I say goodbye.

Because even though it hurts...
even though it burns...
living like that
would be a slow death.

And I,
even as a caterpillar,
have chosen to live.