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don't you wish i was
more like her sometimes?

who's her?

the past, the future,
but not in the least
like the present.

you must wish that
sometimes i wasn't
me.

i don't blame you all
that much.

so i try.

but the more i
become like her,
the more unlike me
i am.

a chance to stay,
to stay the same.

if it's not me,
but someone else.

a golden one, the
one that shines.

like the ripest apple
in a tree.
the sweetest one
everyone wants.

i'm not her,
will never be.
but perhaps if i
try,
be more like her.

if you then lose me.

maybe you'll think
the me who was me,
although flawed,
is the me i will be,
until you can see.