Change
Always comes on time.
Its own time, not when we say;
We love the Spring.
O, I too will change
But why do you push me to?
I thought you loved me.
Love does not have strings,
Rules or eggshells to walk on.
That’s love that has died.
Insecurity
Won’t bind a loved one to you
Nor rivers of tears.
I will grow and change,
As I wish, on my own time,
With you or without.
If love is now dead
Much better it be buried
Than call control love.
