Nothing changed
The streets were the same
People remained on their mapped paths
Perhaps people don't change
They just find the seeds within them grow
Until, eventually, their identity becomes the flavour of the root
So that the individual thinks themselves changed
When, in reality, they are just a boldened result of all that they have always been
I am this, as are you
Everyone is the rain, the grass, the sky
At different intervals
We have all been that girl, that guy
Everyone prays from time to time
Frightened by the realities, we wish not to face
We, the ever fascinating Human race
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 3:46 AM UTC
Nothing changed
The streets were the same
People remained on their mapped paths
Perhaps people don't change
They just find the seeds within them grow
Until, eventually, their identity becomes the flavour of the root
So that the individual thinks themselves changed
When, in reality, they are just a boldened result of all that they have always been
I am this, as are you
Everyone is the rain, the grass, the sky
At different intervals
We have all been that girl, that guy
Everyone prays from time to time
Frightened by the realities, we wish not to face
We, the ever fascinating Human race
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