Growth

Behind the door

Impetus
Ignominy
Ignorant

But mine.

If I am my past as much as my contemporary

Then I can’t lacerate and abscond
This retrospection
And fantasize that it never was

They ask me what I’d wish to warn
The younger me, alone and forlorn

It tempts and soothes the mind to cry,
“Two names – evade them, rather die!”

But.

The now me who’s

Intuitive
Incorruptible
Impeccable

Maybe would cease to be

If I had not known you.

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