a poem about someone else

after birth, he came home
to the house he would live in
for just shy of twenty years.
in that time,
the natural course
of everyone occurred,
to him as it does
to others -
innocence.childhood.
friends.adolescence.
pets.change.

knowing something was off,
something not quite in line
with what he wanted -
'and shouldn't everyone get
what they want?' -
he left,
away from the ever-shrinking pond,
in reality the third
largest city
in the third
most populous state
in 'this great union',
he would not recognize
the shrinking
was the result of myriad actions,
opportunities, relationships,
what could simply be reduced to

his life up til then.

off he moved to the city
whose very definition
hardly describes how life
is lived there,
yet in this place
he found himself a home.
as any home that has ever been,
it has change with time,
it's character
developing
with little consideration
for his desires -
'and shouldn't everyone
get what
they want?'

the tension was no less
six years upon making
this place his home,
and his greatest fear
was a cliche:

'the only constant is change.'
how does a man get used to this life?