All of the words are gone,

repeating, repeating, repeating.

The same stories,

same people,

same feelings.

We make the same mistakes.

We make the same promises.

And break them.

 

They hand me the camera. “Just ask.”

But my throat

closes.

I go up to someone, but decide

against it.

Then I find the right person.

But they say I did it

wrong.

“You do it then.”

They don’t understand.

I don’t understand.

Why am I so

defensive?

So scared?

I brush it off until it happens

again. It

always happens

again.

Poetry

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