To be a better man is to change even when you don't want to.
To pick up broken glass with your naked hands, glueing each shard back together, accepting karmatic slices to your flesh.
Or perhaps you lay them to recycle, half-hoping to reconnect a later day, where you'll both ascend to something more than your current selves.
Though you wrap them in plastic, to be tossed into land fill, accepting your time stain like that'll make you a unique being.
"Oh, he's got character."
Gulped blue pill with plastic chaser, sláinte.
Oh, how wrong you chose