The speaker looks out at crowds of people and sorts them into two loose groups: the bitter and the sweet. The title sets up that split, and the short, trailing lines ("People... everywhere...") make it feel like someone watching the world go by, a little tired or lost in thought.
The turn comes at the end. After all that sorting, the speaker says the only one left is "truly me." It's a slightly odd phrase, and it can be read a few ways. Maybe everyone else has been placed in a category, and what remains is the one person who doesn't fit neatly into either. Or maybe the speaker feels alone in a crowd, with only their own real self to rely on. The poem doesn't settle this, and that openness is part of its charm.
The mood is quiet, reflective, and a bit lonely, though not exactly sad. It feels like a small moment of self-recognition: after looking at everyone else, the speaker ends up facing themselves.