I look at you and see
A weaker form of me
A me I used to be
Now, quite the opposite of me

I don’t want to regress into the me I see
Such a lonesome me to be
One that dreams of being a me
That lives a life of quality

I’m afraid of slipping and turning into me
The me of which I see
Sitting in front of me
The me I cannot, will not be

Do I have the strength to stay me
Lest I turn back into me
Or is there something else to flee
Perhaps because I fear the me
The me I see
In front me
Reminding me
Of ancient me
Means that I have not grown free
Free enough to be a better me

Because the present me
May not be
The me
I need to be