Who I am hates who I used to be,
And yet, ironically I am still me,
I haven't changed much, perhaps not at all
Inside I am me, standing proud and tall,
Inside I am me, on bended knee ashamed, feeling small.
Who I am hates who I used to be,
And yet, ironically I am still me,
I am ashamed of the errors past,
I fought hard to rid myself of them ever so fast,
I am proud that I am morphing into someone new,
All the while, I am still me through and through.
Who I am hates who I used to be,
And yet, ironically I am still me,
And who I am despises who I'd been,
Not yet perfect, but more aware than I was then,
For...
Who I am hates who I used to be,
As I walk along the shoreline, moonlight reflecting upon the sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Even though you are on the slow metamorphism at least you recognise the reason and the change... Maybe we are the same inside in some way but we are also able to change how we use who we are... Alison