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I’m someone else.
I don’t know who.
The me that was
has passed right through,
beyond this frame
of flesh and bone,
of hair and skin.
I’m now unknown.

To me, at least,
I’m not the same.
Perhaps I ought
to change my name
and wear new clothes
(the old ones sag)
to show the world
I do not lag.

I’ll dye my hair.
I’ll dye it blue.
It’s time to try
a thing or two.
I’ll stare at clouds.
I’ll meditate.
Perhaps it’s time
to medicate.

But in the end
how can I know:
Is this new self
a friend or foe?
Is this someone
I want to be?
So old and wise,
but hardly me?!