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?

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