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What’s the one thing I’d change about myself?
Oh man don’t even start… I’ve got a whole list ready.

First thing
maybe I should stop being too honest.
Honestly, man…
I think I just need a haircut.
A proper one.
Something funky.
Leopard print hair, imagine that.
Or a 70’s style
but then my mom will open the door, look at me,
and think I’m a time traveller who stole her childhood.

And sometimes I feel like changing my eyes.
They’re tired, mate.
Tired of the same streets,
same people
who can’t even return a simple “hello,”
not even a morning greeting on the way.
But then I think
maybe it’s not my eyes.
Maybe it’s my view.
Maybe people aren’t the problem;
maybe my perception needs a service, like a phone update.

The curtain in my room?
Cheap rag, looks like its last day is coming soon.
Still covers my privacy though.
If it tears, it’s fine
I’ll just watch the moon at night
and pretend I planned it.

My specs?
Blurry as my life decisions.
My eyes?
Gone, man.
Too many sleepless nights
waiting for someone who never replied.
Even my eyes were like,
“Bro, sleep—she’s not typing.”

Sometimes I think I should change my name to Rabbit.
Then if someone asks, “Why Rabbit?”
I’ll just say,
“Because… this is my habit.”
Great excuse, right?
People will still look at me like I’m stupid
but at least I’ll have a funny answer.

Even my teeth
my friend said the gap is big enough
to hang an aeroplane.
Aeroplane, mate!
I was thinking maybe two Lambos could fit there.
But Lambo is a dream…
and here I am
dreaming about fixing my face.

And then the spiritual thought comes
“Maybe I should be a spiritual guy.”
But no, no… again?
I don’t want to sit folding my legs
pretending my heart isn’t running like it’s late for work.

Am I hyperactive? I don’t know.
I’m not Flash or Superman,
but I keep moving.
Because slowing down
feels like letting life overtake me.
But time moves anyway
bullet train or walking,
you can’t outrun it.

Sometimes I wonder…
can I exchange this body?
Everyone’s obsessed with bodies these days
but all bodies go to the same place, man.
Dark thought, I know.
What about the soul then
can we exchange souls?
No way.
What’s yours is yours.
Locked in.

I keep changing TV channels
and nothing interesting ever comes.
But this life…
this life is interesting enough.
My eyes, my thoughts, my feelings
just being me is enough.

Changing myself?
Easy.
I can mould like clay.
But no matter how much I shape or repaint,
I’ll still carry this same guy inside me.

The one who may not change everything
but will at least
be the change.