Who I Am
If I could only go back in time
and meet myself at a younger age,
I’d fill my immature brain with
things I have learned.
I’d instill in my younger self honesty, kindness,
and compassion. Then I’d convince that misguided
youth that the only worthwhile paths are loving
humanity, animals, and all that nature provides.
I’d fill my young brain with knowledge
of how philanthropic acts are so much
better than the immoral ones I knew
during my early years.
In the mirror of my mind, I can hardly believe
the reflections I get of my criminal acts when
I was young, so with resolve I want to go back
in time to fix my early flaws.
Science doesn’t know how, but a mystic I know does.
She claims past, present and future are all one, because
time and space are a complete illusion only existing
in my mind, and she’ll fix that if I cross her palm.
That’s the way things are, she claims as she counts the silver
and knowledge that everything has already happened, is about
to happen, and is happening right now fills my head, and I wonder
if my mind exist in time or does time exist in my mind?
I close my eyes and travel through the vortex that’s a door and see
myself at eighteen. I try to tell myself the error of my ways. The
eighteen year old looks me over and decides I’m an easy mark.
He punches my jaw and knocks me to the ground.
“Wait, I yell. “I’m an older you. I’ve come to tell you that later in life
you’ll be all right and become a poet.” He hears those words and goes
into a rage. “Poets are queer, so don’t you dare tell me that I’m one of
them. Give me your money and watch for saying something like that.”
I open my eyes and become aware that I can’t change who I was before
I became who I am.Joe DiBuduo > poetry