This is a poem that's not about myself directly. I took one aspect of my personality, magnified it by ooh...800 percent, and then wrote a poem about it. Please note that I am, at present, "happy and healthy". Thank you.

Time Bubbles:

All the pieces seemed to fit, everyone I got
I didn’t find a single thing left inside the box
I pulled the handle, the machine chirred and whirled
The metal ball on the silver pole began to twirl
Lightening flashed once! Twice!
The past was set before me, just outside
pressed my fingers into the bubble, it felt so alive!
For everything I witnessed, there was no escape.
Before me was every time that I erred against my fate.
Times that I had failed, times I got wrong.
Times I did not speak up, and just went along.
When those whom I trusted were missing from my side
Every time I tried to take the pain all in stride.
I reached out to touch it, the bubble warbled, almost broke.
I could only see it happen, the past would not be awoke.
Like images painted on smoke in the dying of the day
once I tried to touch it, it only pulled away.
I tugged on the handle, again and again I tried!
But each time I pulled it back, the wound grew deeper inside.
Life beyond my bubble exists out there still.
People laugh, and cry, enjoy each day and take the good and ills.
But with my time machine, I can fix the past,
If I can only find the way to step through into the black
When my past is whole, I’ll return to today.
See my friends and neighbors, laugh sing and play.
Dance along the hills, as the clouds drift away.
It’s not quite time, can’t make it back just yet
to walk along the hills
to spend my days with those I love,
with all these grievous ills.
There’s a way to fix this,
to stitch shut these wounds of mine,
to heal my past in every part
and let me soul shine.
It must be done; I must complete it.
If it takes my entire life.
I’ll keep pushing through this bubble
until I make it right.