Changing

Hey there, Hamingway!

A slight philosophical poem with a context concerning the subject if inevitable change. Some people appreciate it, while others don't want to forget their past selves. Despite it all, ironically change is always the only constant factor that is present in life. And you've done a decent effort in portraying your thoughts about this most suspicious occurance.

Hermydear above me has very neatly and precisely pointed out the uncertainties of this poem and she's done a great job of it. You've done a lot of answer-seeking throughout the poem and the persona seems like a helpless person bound by the chains of change. I can feel the sentiments and do empathize with the narrator. So you've done an alright job in playing out the character's part.

One thing I'd like to bring to your attention would be poetic verse. Quite frankly, a poem's structure and line scheme and every other detail are bound by only the poet's will. There are set methods and rules for those who would like to be to-the-book.
But forming your own style and keeping it unique is what makes a great poet. Why I'm saying all this is because in parts of your poem, you've made a few lines short and long alternatively and there wasn't much of a steady pace that contributed towards the flow of the poem. While all of this isn't much of an issue, it strikes a bit of a confusion when I read an almost elliptical usage of a line followed by a line written in great detail. The two lines thus sound quite dissimilar and it's like I'm reading a line from two separate poems.
But still, it isn't something of a great issue but just needs to be kept in mind in case you ever find yourself in need of personal writing improvement.

You've definitely got potential. Keep the ink flowing always. And don't stop.

Murtuza

'Ello Hamingway~

I'll start off right away. I loved your poem. I could totally relate to it. I do have a few critiques.(don't we always? *sigh*)

Firstly, you need to correct your punctuation. I've marked punctuation in bold and other stuff in italics.

I am searching,
Constantly changing,
In pursuit, of who I am.
Where do I fit?
What’s What is my purpose?

I am searching,
For what I know not I know not what,
But searching I am.
My time will come,
Sooner or later,
Or so I hope.

I am searching,
My patience is fading.
Bright paths turn dark and taper off,
An empty feeling fills my chest.
I had time,
Or so they said.
Judgement’s here,
Decisions must are made.

Did I settle?
Time will tell.

I was searching,
For a purpose,
who I was and what I’d be. (I moved this to the next line.)
I’m still not done,
Nor will I ever be.
I understand now,
That I will never be done,
Changing.