Pattern recognition / Awful bitter wend

It’s

Horrid

To recognise

A pattern in one’s

Self that replicates

A wealth of

Con

Scent

Rated

Felt.

I wish I knew,

I really wish

I did,

How

To be the man

I once desired

To see.

Now I am just

The

Shadow

Of this fellow

Who ne’er 

Even planted

His dreadful tiny tree.

And all that I could

And all that I would

And all that I should

Have been 

Once in that stream

Of quite unconscious 

Fleet,

Footing all those

Bills, those 

Hills and

Summits to be 

Climbed without end:

That sending of

True love to awful

Bitter wend.

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