Change, to me, is just a thought.
It’s something I want,
Something we all need,
But something I fear a lot.
What if I actually get what I want,
Through hard work instead of struggling,
A sense of guilt would drown me,
As the rest wash up on shore.
Why not stay the same
Stuck, static, still.
You’ve been this way for decades,
Seems to be a peaceful pill.
To change is to challenge.
A severely solo World War Me.
As you can’t change others,
I know; I’ve tried, believe me.
In my mind, I’ve been branded,
As a failure of sorts.
Heed the warnings:
The grass is wilted and rotting at the ports.
