Of All Things Life Changing

Always coming to me as my back is turned

The bliss and pain

The sharp strike of emotion

The blunt trauma of numb

A conveyor belt of events one

Is never prepared for

One after the other

Under the bleak black or

The promising blue

You’re clutching hands

You’re clutching roses

Every time handled

With the blind tenacity of a child

The time to panic is when things plateau,

Because change will stalk your every shadow.

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