That pattern
Occurs periodically.
Despite all the vern
I still hurt myself regularly.

Those ricocheting projectiles
Travel uncontrollably.
Hitting them who smiles
Wounding them miserably.

This is not a sanctuary
Not a place to survive.
This is a void, where no one can hear me.
Screaming, "Help! I'm eating myself alive."

Left to right got you.

I don't know since when you chose to leave.
What i already know is that you never accept me anyway.
But there was time when you make me feel my presence.
Not just that, but also my existence.
That one beautiful moment for me who keep coming back to you.
Or maybe i never really come into your life.
But it's okay, life is full of confusion anyway.

There are so many words i'd like to say.
But i know you'll laugh at it all the way.
Because maybe you think i'm a joker and you're one of my masterpiece.
I don't know why god made it this way.
Like a beautiful rose that filled with thorns.

It's the third time for me to let you go.
But saying "goodbye" for me is just another "hello".
Like we usually do.
Like we did it now.

All the sparks and heat that i'm excited about,
All those adrenalins that rush,
All those fires i ignite,

For the sake of pleasure,
For mere instantaneous joy,
For a relief i never thought i seek.

I never meant to hurt anyone,
I never meant to burn anything precious,
I never want to

Yet, all those ignitions,
Are long overdue.
For once, i burned my home down.

Can people change? That's one of the hardest question I've stumbled upon.
I've seen so many people change throughout my life.
My parents, my family, my friends.
Everybody's changing.
But when i look into a mirror, i don't just see glass that reflects light.
I see such an unchanged math problem that we might known as constant.
I see, myself.

Being constant is not the same as being consistent.
It's not a wordplay that everyone could mix it up.
Those two not even homophones.
Being consistent is sometime a thing that we could be proud of.
And yet being constant is
an illness that I haven't find the cure of.

I'm not saying that it's uncurable.
What I'm saying is
I'm sick of it.
I'm sick of being an unchanged variable that doesn't know how to change.
I'm sick of being a constant that is easily scratch out in a derivative.
Who are scared of the slightest change that eliminates.
I'm sick of being a constant that is negligible during a definite integration.
Who are disposable when the such circumstances are known.

All I'm saying is,
I'm sick of being a constant.
And for now,
I want things to change.