I’ve Changed

When we’re tangling together, I could talk all night
but dear, it’s too clear, we chat less than fight.
We agree, on occasion. Surely, we can
– but I think that the problem is that rather than
the mild-mannered fellow that before you you see,
you know nothing of my storied history
and the man that I was and the people I have been
when I was much younger and crueler, and sinned.

Because you don’t know who I was
you will never comprehend the kind of things I had to do.
Because you don’t know who I was
you see my current acts all you can do is simply misconstrue.
Because you don’t know who I was
all you hear is the buzz of the rumors of here and the now.
How I see you’re non-plussed. Because you don’t know who I was.

That guy in the past was a blast, I insist.
His charms were disarming; quite hard to resist.
He could stay up real late and relate with all sorts.
He’d consort, I’d report, with assorted escorts.
A bastard to many, a charmer to some;
a wandering soul who’d go soon as he’d come.
‘Fore now, you’d not met this unrepentant shit,
but he’d always been me, I’m proud to admit.

Because if you had known me then,
I don’t think that you’d recognize the man I have become.
Because if you had seen me back then
you would look at the me in the present as kind of a bum
and if you had known me back then
with all the vigor and power and energy youth could allow
you’d be humbled and cowed, and quite proud, had you known me back then.

The lesson, perhaps is that multitudes, I
have contained and retain and continue to fly
in consistency’s face and transform every now
and again into somebody else and then how
you may judge me by one standard all the time is
disappointing, resulting in arguments bus-
ily fought between us which is how this whole piece
had begun so I guess it may be how it’s ceased.

But you weren’t there when I was
the dastardly rat-bastard with that damned rat-bastard past
Because you weren’t there when I was
prepared to use any means necessary to finish the task.
Because you weren’t there when I was
a monster with attitude, and gratitude he was so endowed.
You didn’t know I’d been the cat’s meow; you didn’t know who I was…

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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