You once said I would never change,
and this is what it became.

Can a girl not change?
do storm clouds in the darkest of nights not become rain,
are we all not left broken in the end,
left to pick up and begin again,
a little less hopeful than when we came,

I'd scream these questions to the high heavens,
if only I knew that the answer would beckon,
and come back to me with ease,
instead of tormenting my head with constant repitition,
in which inslaves me with dread,
and I realize, these questions, will haunt me until the end,

But really,

Can a girl not change?
she could very well focus on the bright light,
instead of waiting for the rain,
she could very well begin again, and start fresh,
forgetting the questions that torment her head,
realizing that there are things to be done,
things to be said,
and poetry, to be read.