A Change in Self

It was the smoke.

The cigarettes in the air, wafting towards something more.

Knowing that I couldn’t change the past,

but the future is mine for the taking.

I saw it, the skyscrapers filled with mundane beliefs.

The people looking for something in the distance,

and the smoke.

How it crawled through my throat

into my lungs and out again.

I am no different than the child I was.

Yet I feel so discontent with that thought.

How could I not change in the ways everyone is told to change?

Why am I nothing but an echo of the past, still stubbornly holding on.

However, maybe that is a significant change.

Someone who wants to change will bring it, no matter its shape.

The change I want to make in myself counts on the change of the world.

And who can change that? If I don’t no one will.