The speaker is stuck on a question that sounds small but isn't: what will other people call them? "Ma'am?" "Sir?" The short, stacked lines make it feel like someone rehearsing a moment in their head, imagining a stranger's voice and bracing for the word. The poem never says outright why this matters so much, but the worry about being addressed correctly suggests a concern with identity and how the world sees the speaker. That reading comes from the text's hints, not from anything stated directly.
The mood is tense and uneasy. Anxiety is pictured as something following close behind, ready to "tackle" the speaker at any moment, which makes it feel physical and sudden rather than vague. The closing questions are the most honest part. The speaker wonders whether the fear will ever fade or whether it will always be there, and the final line, "For I'll never know," offers no comfort. It ends on uncertainty, leaving the reader inside that same waiting.