I can go among the enemy as I am with ease.

My twenty years, and now these thirty more,

Give me the heavier body and gray-haired disguise,

And I am not suspected as I was before.

Those of my own nation do not know. The young

Think, without thinking, I work on the other side.

I see and am seen by the double agents among

The rest. From these there is nothing I can hide.

I know the danger, but silent, alone, and weak,

Will not by any of these aliens be betrayed.

It is when I walk with the enemy, and speak,

And act as they act, that I am most afraid,

Not of the middle-aged who believe their years

Have made them wise, and truly strong and whole,

But the scared players, fighting down their fears,

Who lie to get it, and kill to keep the role.

They look the part, well-known, matured, and gray.

They hate and they deceive the young, and the wise,

But never themselves, and never those like me,

And in every least encounter, one of us dies.