THE ME THAT USED TO BE
And though the chance remains|
Memory fades to fantasy
That seems too hard to face just now.
Too soon I'd cut the chains|
In my efforts to be free
Too soon forsake my place behind the plow.
Sick, some say, obsessed|
I've seen the illness in your crowd:
Each one considered blessed
By your eye-blink caressed
To the facts of Life and Love unbowed.
To you they hand the reins|
In show of fealty
Skipping truths that might provoke a row.
In all I hear refrains|
Of the me that used to be
The me that acted so (and how).