Slaughterhouse

Fourteen years of cynicism, boredom and anxiety.
Fourteen years of thinking that my teachers were all dead against me.
If there were two versions of me separated by five minutes,
elder twin would look upon me, shudder with embarrassment.
Every time I scrutinize this truth it slaps me in the face,
reminding me my righteousness will now and forever more pervade.
Fourteen years resenting peers and thinking I could rise above.
All my truths dissolve before me-
all my truths except for one.
I accept. I detest.
Oft I try to find the place where all my contradictions blend,
though all that I have thought- will think-
then blink and I'm a freshman again.
If there were two versions of me separated by five minutes,
elder twin would look upon me, shudder with embarrassment.
Tomorrow's here already. It's gone