changes.

Somewhat lacking in variety, but heavy in substance.

I wonder if some things will ever change.
It's kind of like, you're caught in this rut,
swimming your way out, but to no avail.
And with age, it gets deeper.
It'd mean that you're mature enough to think and control your temper,
and all the people you hurt know that too,
so they'd probably regard you with some form of disappointment.

I've been pondering, although one might feel sincere and patch up
after saying sorry and all, but the relapse that comes back haunting,
that vicious cycle, that all-so-familiar issues year after year . . .
What does that signify?

When a person forgives, he/she does not forget.
Those nails that had been knocked in so hard.
They lie bent and dead and cold.

Evolvement. I'd put it that way.
Many things have changed. We/I had, apparently.
We/I can't deny it hasn't/haven't , because it's so obvious it had.
We're/I'm not complaining.
Probably just sensing a nib of loss, just that tiny tinge.
We/I are suppose to be moving on with the motions of life.

I just hope we can deal with matters of fact rationally and maturely,
which most, even me, don't know how to most of the time.
I'm still learning.

We're all living like an empty shell,
cracking under the pressure of living.
And every awakening day is sheer hell.,
still, we live.