Change the only Constant

Feeling a little on the side of romantisism

Change the only constant

Reminiscent of the past, 

you broke out at last, the trigger to the wrong side of the gun, 

or the bullet shot at a run.

A pool of wonder and of amazement,

made a fool out of your casement. 

Chasm wide and far, creating a bridge to hold a truck of tar;

you unintentionally sow seeds and they grow, eventually messing up the flow.

Those puns to laugh at, or the foolery to mock at;

they each come and go, making you fall to the floor.

Maturity is not an achievement, 

it sure makes you grow, 

but it has sides to it, 

you wouldn't want to know.

A perk, or antique weapon, that you can perhaps put to use, 

but the target may not glow, for you tred on the wrong part of the snow.

You scorned, and that took the better part of your frown, 

now to set it right and make it alright, you have to pay the price as the magistrate decides. 

An apology is too small an incentive, 

to bribe a bond so frivolous yet tight;

a burden you'll have to carry maybe for the rest of your life.

That same anger, the similarity of the torture, leaves you awestruck;

a memory frozen or the character reborn, 

you're scared to even visualize it all.

Maybe you're at fault, and haven't seen the long gone,

wrong those acts, those actions them all, 

that left you alone and that time went along.

Learn from it, or yearn for that call, 

you know you've lost the argument when you cannot stand tall;

A motionless stature, that will ruin the caricature, time plays master to alter it all.

Falter, stumble, fumble, tumble, 

you have someone to hold you and make you strong;

Independently walking, that dream you're living, fantasies then face a major fall.

Grow up, you cannot scream, 

smile wide, you cannot deceive,

Polite and happy, saves you from looking tacky;

Ordinary an attire, 

yet brilliant the satire, 

on the hypocrisy of the situation, 

that leaves you to be the jack of all yet master of none of the situations.

That ego is now hurt, 

you've heard enough from time immemorial, 

those cries go out, yet unheard;

you are at fault, to have started it all, 

yet experienced in the field, continuing will cause a big deal.

The past has lingered, to the present and has injured,

 all that love, hope and beauty you carried, 

is now lost and a trolly of junk is fried, in those same emotions that you once alleged. 

Confident, conformative, courageous, 

you seem, to those trodden actions that now mislead;

you want to and hence will change for that better of self actualization to come out of you....

Change the only constant, moves like a thisle, in many changing ways;

air it's partner in crime, the beats of a Heart, it's nature in prime.

Yet art plays smart, to statue it at last,

it looses the living breathing quality of the heart, yet remains at the best of our knots.

Time plays smart at times, an oxymoron, 

to describe the factuality of the design;

a beautiful metaphor to make of the aspect, so people treat it well in all respects.

Change in the past, to see a better present,

a better you, in a mirror more clear;

the glass may change, yet the person is constant, the qualities stir, while the mist appears.

Treat it to your advantage, use it well,

Be the Change you want to see,

and show people as well. 

You can live up to that word, that promise untorn, you had it in you, to turn the world towards you..!