Who Is Now Reading This?

I am extremely impressed by another poem of Walt Whitman's. Some people try to hide the knowledge of their 'wrongdoings' by pushing them far out of sight and covering them up  with an air of perfection and a cloak of self-righteousness. 
I know you and I know me but do we truly know ourselves? Is there something you - some mean-ness in you that you would not be proud for your family, friends, neighbours, co-workers - the world - to know about? Bet there is!

Who Is Now Reading This?

May-be one is now reading this who knows some wrongdoing of my past life,

Or may-be a stranger is reading this who has secretly loved me,

Or may-be one who meets all my grand assumptions and egotisms with derision,
Or may-be one who is puzzled at me.
As if I were not puzzled at myself!
Or as if I never deride myself! (O conscience-struck! O selfconvicted!)
Or as if I do not secretly love strangers!
(O tenderly, a long time, and never avow it;)
Or as if I did not see, perfectly well, interior in myself, the stuff of wrong-doing,
Or as if it could cease transpiring from me until it must cease.