I have changed
I know how much
Not as seasons change
But like wind eroded cliffs
Submitting to blows
Of a Master Sculptor.
For better? For worse?
Not the name of this game
Days flow into nights
And day comes again
Some heavy with rain
Some filled with sunlight
As world tells me to behave
To sit, stand, twist, and turn
To take my heart and hang it up
To dry; to expose my womb
And fill my veins with fire
And I comply; but then
I am born again
With the same name
And features; yet changed.
