I am caught in the twisted loop
of a broken record;
the conversations that seem to
repeat themselves;
the questions I ask and answer
again, and again.
I find myself speaking the same
words only to
get back the ones that have
been given to me
before.
I’ve been talking since I could
walk and yet
how many times have I walked
the same route?
How many times have I talked
to reach the same
conclusion?
The parallels I draw between each of
your voices
make my own sometimes shake,
and what I catch myself sharing is
nothing new,
nothing I was never told to
give away.
of a broken record;
the conversations that seem to
repeat themselves;
the questions I ask and answer
again, and again.
I find myself speaking the same
words only to
get back the ones that have
been given to me
before.
I’ve been talking since I could
walk and yet
how many times have I walked
the same route?
How many times have I talked
to reach the same
conclusion?
The parallels I draw between each of
your voices
make my own sometimes shake,
and what I catch myself sharing is
nothing new,
nothing I was never told to
give away.
