Ass from the past.

I thought I was a genius when I was 16.

I would write something like:

“Absurd slurred words are blurred, heard then transferred.”

Nerd.

Always changing his mind and values.

Turd.

Now I hate words that rhyme.

I hate lines that flow in time.

What I like now is unnecessarily long sentences that just seem to look out of place.

Face.

Eyes.

Are all welcome.

To read and judge.

I don’t give a fudge.

Although I think it will just be me seeing this.

So what’s the point?

Scooby do.

Bip bap a roo.

Do do,  do you?

The ending.

Don’t know how to end this.

Something that links to the first part of the poem.

I don’t know.

16 year old me would know.

He would know the perfect thing to say to tie it all up.

That guy was a genius.