My Infinite Dead Souls

Would you like to know how many times I’ve died?

The answer is:

Infinitely.

With every stroke of a key, with every knew thought,

I die.

And a new me:

A more experienced,

More mature,

Overall older me

Emerges.

Though, these simple little actions

Are hardly enough to give birth to a new me

Who is much different than I am

Now

Or...

Then(?)

It takes either�"

A long series of these tiny actions

Or

A few gargantuan actions and events

To birth a new me that varies

From the old me.

 

In looking back at my ancient texts I

Catch a glimpse of the person I once was.

I mourn the little Heath that lived so freely

And led life so blindly

Into the unforeseen future.

What would I have changed,

Had I known where I would be now?
What could I change?

For seeing the future is impossible,

Isn’t it?

I should not feel sorry or depressed.

But I do.

I cannot help but feel some

Nostalgic longing for my past self.

He was such an innocent little boy.

Tell me�"

Why did he have to die?

 

Then again, what would have happened

If perhaps,

He had never died.

Imagine

All the things

I never would have experienced.

I suppose I want less to bring the old me back

Then to experience the old me again.

Just to feel what it was like.

Just to see,

Now knowing,

The inevitable.

And to feel the giddiness any little child does

As he waits through the previews

Of a long awaited film

Or toils with the wrappings

Of a promised Christmas present.

 

To be not only born,

But re-born.

To live again

What has already been lived.

To fully remember the intricate details;

Completely feel the feels I did then.

For me there would be no greater feeling;

No recreation as joyous.

But only in moderation of course.

For to dwell on the past,

Only leads to arrested developments

In the future.

Author's Note

i know this is bad, but how bad? and what could I do to make it better?