Change – A poem

“Change is grim. Change is grey.”

Is what they all always say

But what happens to a larvae daring to change?

Does it transform or become something strange?

For a day too bright to turn to night,

Will miss the silver moon,

And winter refusing to transform to spring

Will skip the new leaves it brings

A Phoenix afraid to turn to ashes,

Will never rise again.

I’d always thought I was inept

A girl too usual, too imperfect 

A girl so ordinary, afraid being strange

For I had always resisted change

But deep within my heart I knew,

I’d always loved the idea of new

Always considered myself a pest

Only good for ruining the best

Too faulty and too wry

But if you’d never dare to change,

How will you know you’re a butterfly?

You might not have the desire to change,

The caterpillars will speak of your oddity, so strange

You will wonder as you form your cocoon,

Will you become a butterfly soon?

They will want you normal of all things

But you will have wings.

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