When I was little I believed

When I was little I believed that
all that I was doing and
all that happened to me
were things I was reciting
about my past from a future.
Who was I in the future?
To whom was I telling my past?

When I was little I believed that
all that went wrong and
all that wounded me
were things that were leaving
as the new day dawned.
Is it still night?
Or has it dawned?

When I was little I believed my
bent halluces were normal
and never did I shy
though a little sad for those
I thought were deprived.
Was it insolence?
Or was it ignorance?