The old me
There was a me, who used to be so very long ago. So much I was naïve about so much I didn't know. I thought the world was simple I thought I understood That I knew all about myself that I did what I should But now it's complicated I know that I was wrong. And when I look into the past, should have known all along The knowledge I possess now, was really always there I could have learned it back then, back then I didn't care. If I go back in history, years carefully arranged will I find that catalyst will I know why I changed? And if I met myself back then and took me by the hand, could the me that used to be, ever really understand? The years have shaped me like a potter changes clay they've added things, and molded things and taken things away. Some may say I'm better, Some might think I'm worse Should I stand tall, with head held high, or bear it as a curse?