Change
People can change, she says,
Accusatory hope spitting into my face;
We are flowers and we grow.
We are seasons and we pass.
We are concepts and we improve.
But people are not colorful metaphors-
We are bones.
Our flesh above us bleeds with adjustment.
And while we snap, while our marrow wilts,
We hold the same stubborn shape
And never fade completely.
People bleed and break;
We are too strong for change.
















