People contain in themselves multitudes

People contain in themselves multitudes,
Of varying beliefs, feelings and attitudes.
Of a singular entity, there is no certitude:
At once nurturing and critical,
Alternatingly rational and irrational;
Suddenly rebellious, then compliant,
At times a Parent, next a Child,
Many facets drop in and out,
Through the mind's revolving door.
Fools chase after such passing clouds,
Hold onto old grievances and what nots,
A long lost love, a fleeting joy,
Life's enchanting ensnaring ploy.
Today I whisper sweet nothings,
Tomorrow I mete out cruel beatings
Yesterday I laughed, now I weep,
There is no permanent I to keep.
The wise know this simple truth:
People contain in themselves multitudes.