i used to be an exhilarating novel;
a fascinating film
and now, a lonesome unpaired rhyme,
a bland and blunt fable.

i talked to the boy in the mirror;
the boy i used to be
and he shed a tear
and he looked of remorse and sadness
anger and fear
i miss when i used to be me.


ten birthdays ago,
hundreds of failed bike rides before,
thousands of knee scrapes,
i miss when i used to be me

i can hear him calling my name
buried under a dirt mound of mistakes
cemented by tears i shed today
as i mourn
for the boy i used to be

i swear I had him,
i swear i knew him
but then his soul seeped out
through the hollow shell of when
i used to be me

and seeped into a river of memories
that ebb away into a distant past;
and i can never possibly go back,
neither can it come back.

i used to be me
i miss the boy i used to be.