To My Younger Self: I’m Sorry
I feel indebted to my younger self-
ripe with creativity
passion bursting at her seams
she runs towards a sea of lost potential
not knowing what lies ahead
a present self longing for her past
the past running towards her ever bright future
what happens in that gap we call time
the laborious walk of an aging body
losing what kept her young
we live and we die and tell our story
but who keeps that dying flame alive
the ghost of my younger self doth protest
my dissipating ability to keep my soul alive
as my mind morphs into others
and our individuality gets lost in the 9 to 5
but who will tell little me
that her birthday candle wishes aren’t real
and the colors she sees aren’t really that bright
or that mommy’s kisses don’t really make her boo boos better
So maybe I can grant her another day
and let her bask in the rays of the innocence we once all had
for there’s no harm in giving time to the one who once had it all
while mine quietly melts away
lost in the seams of my old pink tutu
and the nighttime stories that lulled me goodnight
And worst of all, I know I am indebted
to a girl I will never pay back.
For if time is money, I’ve lost it all—
and gambled it to a game
that never much liked me anyway.
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