How strange my young life, its proclivities.
How quick and profound are its extremities.
How cruel the loss and joyous the gains.
And yet surrounded and ever by change.
As I reflect on my last year,
I reflect on my life now. Like watching waves from a pier.
Or should I be filled with fear?
Who I was, when I was then. ­­­­­­
And then that I became back and forth again.
What my chances are for times to be like they were are very dim.
But how can one wish to return?
Because if that were the case,
Then I’d never learn.
And then the rewards I would never earn.
But is that what life is about?
At such a young age,
My mind is filled with doubt.
And these new ideas flourish and sprout.
And I start to pride in my growing.
Because I have spent all these years knowing,
At least my first name.
But as I grow older my name changes meanings.
But not based upon me,
Based on what people are seeing.
What does it mean when they say seeing is believing?
So what does my name mean this year?
I slowly become someone else’s image I must adhere.
But the days of ending time are coming near.
And I feel like I have nothing to fear.
I have seen many versions of myself.
And the mirror screams, “Look at yourself!”
And as I reflect on my last year,
And the girl looking back at me in the mirror,
The changes have never been so clear.