moving on

It frightens me to look behind, at what I've done,
It terrifies me.
What for, if they are just words,
which fade in shreds
of unknowing silences?

I do not dare to look at what I've said,
as it scares me,
not to believe the things that I have spent
my time into are somehow pointless.

Moving on, I don't want to find myself
when I look over my shoulder.
Moving on, never too fast, hiding my brain
into my backside pockets.