Change pumps through my veins
and seeps from my pores and my picked-at pimples of the mundane.
I'm told it'll leave scars in noticeable places.
I'm told to leave them be and let them pass.
No, sir, I tell them.
The risk is the reward
and the pain is the gain, I say to their perfect and pimpled faces.
Their cover-up can trick a few with a deceiving view,
But monotony will fester beneath artificial sweetness.
A broke-*** life will get tiring when it is only made up of
humdrum and dumdums,
And I will forget those who told me to settle as I run with a pulsing heart full of change toward a life and a love that is stronger than drugs,
I am an addict.
What will I have to remember if I always stay the same?
Not much.