Things are not the same, no longer stuck in the same refrain
I am broken and sent away but that’s okay.
We start again, step by step
I drag them along so they don’t forget,
we’re okay but it’s not the same
little differences remain.
in sleep, I am inside out
colourful edges folded over
and in this I am about, wandering all over again.
When we stand still, we’re not the same
a little taller in our frame,
our faces wired and weary
but times of change can make us whole again,
we walk farther, find our markers –
little spots of refuge along the way
and when we’re done, and we’re asleep again
it’s okay if things are not the same.
r.l.w
