To go back through my old writing is a
sort of horror show,
To be appalled both at my style and at
what I didn't know.
I went through noun and verb phases, an
adverbial, an adjectival,
Each excoriated, roundly mocked, upon
the next's arrival,
But nothing makes my skin crawl with
embarrassment complete
As much as looking back at all the crap
I used to read.
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