Early Looks at Himself

Each mini death
Creates a mini you
A new one to fall in love with
To fall out with, too

It maybe means you aren’t
The devil, a nutjob, a sham…
They were just things I made up
In childish efforts to find the man

So could we try again one day
When I’ve changed, grown—been born
Because I’m starting to admit, slowly
That it was me all along after all