I've learnt that people change,
It's not something I want to do,
But it's something that I must arrange.
Each speck of my life that I swept under the rug,
Each time I said it didn't matter, with a dismissive shrug.
Each time is still ticking,
Just as each dog is still licking.
Even when I'm not there.
I saw someone look back in time
And pick up the pieces of her mind.
"This is me,
Each little part,
All of this was then,
But none of this is past".
She will show off each silly phase,
It really was her, and not 'just one of those days'.
Sometimes I wish that was me.
To have a grasp of life today,
Though it floats in my mind astray,
Each bird, each word, each comedy.
But only sometimes, do I wish that were me.
There were times when love was all the rage,
Subtle hearts, drawn on the corner of each page.
Some to the girl I wish I could talk to,
Some to the girl I wish would just walk through
My mind and into the room.
In time I came to see the reasons why,
A love, life like this was doomed to die.
I needed to take care of my looks,
To lift my head out of the books.
To tell Mum not to buy me clothes,
"I'd actually quite like, to wear one of those".
I took every colour and put it on,
"Who cares if they clash, it's just for fun",
I could look in the mirror, past my longer hair,
"I finally did it, I'm finally there".
Sure I looked like a hippy and fag,
"But hey man, life's no longer a drag".
Though it's fair to say
That the language didn't stay.
Was this really such a drastic makeover,
Could I draw a before, middle and after?
Not then, and not even now.
So I see these other people change,
And I still want to know how.
This man I know, described his every style,
How he wore his hair and how he wore his smile.
He talked of how is brother copied him,
Found his old clothes in the bin,
Put them on and tried to be chic.
He learnt the walk and he learnt the look,
He followed his brother, each step he took.
My friend, to me, he said "I chopped and changed,
And vowed never to look the same,
As my annoying twin brother,
And his stupid looking hair".
When I try, I look back and see
Nothing but disappointing memories.
Some are sad, but that's not what I mean,
I've never had anyone who was with my scene.
I've performed in front of them all
In one man duologue,
Looking like Alvy Singer,
And needing an Annie Hall.
Not even a girl, with whom to pass the time,
But someone to respond the other lines.
People have auditioned, and will audition still,
Often out of sync, and rarely by free will.
To have someone copy my clothes,
Would be really fun,
But what do I know?
I met someone who reminded me of me,
A younger me with less confidence, but more self esteem.
I looked at him and turned my head,
"With all that arrogance, I'm glad I'm free,
From living in such an egocentric reality".
I would have said that, if I thought it were my place,
But my lack of esteem hit me in the face.
I would rather be able to do,
But not to want,
Than to want so much,
Yet unable to go through.
You will never know when you're something new,
But if you look at what other people do,
You'll see things that used to be you.