her

a poem about a mature and present me being a bit mean to my past version

  i wish i never met her

                         and i wish to never see her again.

                         she's not me,

                         we are not the same.

                    she was small 

               and she was empty

          and fragile,

and her vision was 

always blurry

so she couldn't see 

          where she was standing;

               she couldn't feel 

                    her body being buried,

                         her lungs full of mud.

                         she didn't know a thing

                    about anything

              and she was scared

and i'm so scared of her

because i know 

she never really left,

          because i know

               she is always there

                    plotting vengeance

                         she wasn't a bad girl

                         but she wasn't good

                      enough for anyone;

                         she's nothing 

                         but a ghost now

                who can't see the light.