i was young

Everyday I think, About the past the future, The here and now, Where I have been and where I am going, I think about the possibilities, I wonder... I wonder if I’d done things differently if where I am today, Would things be different? I realize that I have been naive, And that I have pushed boundaries, That I have not been perfect Nor done or been that best that I could be. I was a wild child. I wonder will I ever have the second chance to gain what I’ve lost, And lose what I have, Or if I should love what I have, and lose sight of what I had; I miss. And tell me who to stop when I had the best. I realize that now. What was with me? And why do you always realize what you had when it is gone, When you've fucked up beyond repair And you'll never again it what gone back. Why do you're memoirs haunt you? Is it for you to purely yearn for what you may never have? Or to learn to keep what you do. Why not second chances Why not forgive and forget. I swear I don’t know anymore. Just learn evermore.