I miss the versions of myself, That I've since packed away. I miss the little girl, Who played in her mind all day. I miss the teenage rebel, Who had no clue who to be. I miss the young woman, Who paved the way for me. I miss the strength I had, To face danger with a smile. I miss the girl who used to run, And appreciate each mile. I miss the girl who loved herself, When she had wider thighs. The girl who without needles, Looked fine in her own eyes. I miss the me who made believe, The me with endless hope. I miss the me who slept and loved, Inside my childhood home. I miss myself but maybe Itβs all part of growing up. Changing and transforming Into meβs for me to love.