Mirror in the crowd

'Tis a busy afternoon in downtown Toronto,
A place more bustling than a usual day.
With coffee in hand, I rush to my desk,
Located on the fifth floor of RBC.
No matter how much the snow doth fall,
Leaving me the sole soul waiting for more,
'Tis mid-January and yet no snow,
But that is a curiosity I can't ignore.
For I am cursed with dust allergies,
Sneezing a hundred times, at least,
And in the midst of seventy-five to eighty,
My nose doth give yet another beast.
But hark! Who approaches from the crowd?
A lass in a dress that doth match mine own,
Her face familiar, yet I cannot see,
For my eyes are watery and I have no cone.
I hear her whispers, but they are but faint,
For she is but five meters away,
I strain to hear, but 'tis to no avail,
For the busy afternoon doth sway.
But as she comes closer, I feel a chill,
A whispered voice doth say "They call for thee, Foe,"
And with a final sneeze, I open my eyes,
But the girl is gone, and I am alone.
'Twas a strange and eerie occurrence,
But I must away to my desk,
To find solace near the cozy heater,
And give my nose a well-deserved rest.
But as the days pass, the girl doth return,
And I know that she is not of this world,
For she is but a manifestation,
Of the fears and insecurities I've unfurled.
I delve deep within my mind and soul,
And confront the demons I've repressed,
I integrate them and find acceptance,
And the girl is finally laid to rest.
But my journey doth not end there,
For the girl represents all our fears,
I become a therapist and guide others,
To confront their own shadows and clear.
And every time a client comes to me,
Struggling with their own demons,
I remember that girl, and the journey,
That led me to where I am, serene.