Poem thingies *shrugs*

Change. (A quick 5 minute poem.)

Change to me is hostile, the dying of the old, for which to make anew. Change to me is something volatile, that takes me away from you. Change is often accepted, a cliff note as we grow, change the darkest truth, never shall let go. It grips your soul and starts to seep, as you lay broken, as you weep. To fall apart with such beauty, the old you can never know, to endure it is our duty, only then to leave it wanting more. If life can treat us well, if we're perfect for a time, the old me could be yours, and the old you could be mine. Change is but a simple word, that dictates and never looks back, a word I wish I never heard, a word I can't accept as fact. At what point do we say, I refuse to change! Will that be the day, we shake off change's chains?