People do not change. They stay
The same ciphers as before
However, if they were strange
Chances are they are strange even more.
***
As a change to my former outcries
I write with an uncharacteristic torpor
People do not change they attempt disguise
Then the carriage turns to pumkin as before
We all hold hands and love and torture
We all deep down wish to be audacious
And in casinos we all dream of fortunes
And on the cruises we are all voracious.
****
But at the end of all. We are so small
We are innocuous and full of fright
Like butterflies that travel into Fall
Like children, only less bright.
We all forget the sparkle when got older
We all forget the dreams, and all that's left
The greenish greyish color of the folder
Same colored money, trickery and theft.
How does it go - If children are so good
Why grown ups are rather nasty all together
And all the harmless querulous and even rude
Appear murderous in aging weather
***
(Does this strike you as platitude without torque
For that Forgive me. Veraciously I wish to write.
The aging process does lead up to ***
I cannot even bring myself to say it out right)
All people do not change, they stay the same
This tendency should not be reprimanded
We all are small and yet desire fame
And this desire, unlike life will not be ended.
You see, we all are driven by this common fear
That life will end before we make it big
OR that it simply ends, and end in fact is near
And so we fight the change, and run and dig
and grab the earth with shaky aging fingers
And beg for extra month, an extra year
So how can one accuse us. We just want to linger
On earth a little more, a little more.