Tell me. Are we liable?
To stay recognizable?
She is not who she was.
Same tendons, bone, blood,
but heart beats to a different tune.
Tell me if once in a blue moon
real change occurs,
or are we simply trading faces,
masking what hurts.
Can a mind arrive to a new place
and reorganize the new space?
Or is it only fresh paint over old wood?
Make-believe of what we should
have done but never did?
Wars we could've won but hid
under the covers instead.
Are we all deep-down dead?
YOU ARE READING
Every Last Drop
Poetryfor hard times. for the lonely late nights. and the tears we cry. every last drop. * all rights reserved
