As I write this, I am unsure of what is next
or the next to the next
or what would fill in the blank pages
or what would calm down my inner rages          

They say, “We all write to express.”
but what if my pen refuses to?
I  try to talk but my mouth closes
excluding myself, who else to woo?              

I drown myself in a plethora of words
but none of them seems to match what I feel
My futile musings, nothing could nurse
I swear to all gods, nothing feels worse!

It’s quite surprising how people change
How people grow
How people learn
How people find who they really are

People change in the speed of a jetplane
You wake up in the byproduct
but never get to see the process

A ballerina that was once wimp
Walks into the coffee shop one busy afternoon
Those who never even looked at her
Would die to befriend the brand new her

People change without them noticing
People change when they find the purpose of living
People change without a warning

People would bloom
but others would rather wither
Some would choose to be the fruit
While others would rather live as the root

People change in years
In months
and even in days

People come
People go
And before you know it
You, yourself have already changed.

*winonymous

you are the kind of
poetry i will never
get tired of reading

*winonymous