Someone is arguing with themselves here, and the argument goes in circles. The speaker starts by telling themselves to run, then immediately asks what they're running from. The answer is a list: a person, an idea, a choice, a mistake. Then the order flips to "Face it," and the same question comes back. Avoiding the problem and facing it both feel unsettling.
What makes the poem interesting is where the dread lies. Facing the problem would mean admitting you could actually do it, or finish it, or that you simply don't care enough to try. The repeated "What to do, / What to do" captures the frozen, anxious loop of someone who can't decide.
The ending is blunt. After floating a few reasonable options, the speaker waves them away with "No. / You should just care enough." It sounds like a stern self-lecture, and it's unclear whether it solves anything. The mood is restless, tense, and a little guilty, like pacing a room with an unfinished task waiting.