I took that point you made -
that I was uncouth, unrefined -
and sharpened it until it's tip
became a certain type of specific.

For the old me would have wadded
your suggestions and improvements
and stuffed them somewhere deep,
perhaps some sort of crevasse where
the sunshine rarely seeps.

Yet here I stand, chest out, chin up,
hardly registering the claggyness
of the room's atmosphere,
a certain type of structure;

built tall, out of good steel and
with quality craftsmanship,
quite the sight you'd never seen

Reorient -

for you I'd turn the map,
but never change the page.

And as that tip blunts off to become broad once more,
I'll take the hints. Your eyes can open.

Here I stand, slight slouch, unbroken.