The Process

My mind is angry, filled with many an ideal Constantly clouded by what I think is real Choices, choices, so many I have to choose Which one do I pick, which one won’t lose A perspective on this, a discussion on that, I fight The urge to scream out, tell me what is right Everyone has an opinion on this and that I rage Leave me alone, I don’t need your help at my age Not giving in, not letting up, I keep going Keenly aware of the cost and that I’ll be owing I struggle and protest against the change As it pulls and drags me from my comfort range I scream and curse as the changes manifest The more I change the more I protest Until one day, someone noticed something new They said that there was something different about you From there my fight against change ended Knowing that part of my soul had been mended