Who (interrogative lyric fragment)

.

.

In bed one morning
turning and tossing
on a lack of sleep
I felt myself split in four.

I was the boy I was –
so bright, so eager,
so racked by hurt
that my joy was lost.

Again I was a young man,
running to her house
like it was all downhill
yet I turned my back on love.

Then the old man I will be
shuffling, rattle-boned,
mourning the choices I made,
wet-eyed at the woman I lost.

And I was the man I am
bearing the weight of that parting
and those parts of me, till I fell
inescapably broken and lost.

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