(This is a poem I wrote what seems an era ago, but only found again today. Though this time is well behind me, I still felt obligated (if that's the word) to share.)
History repeats itself,
and here’s exhibit A.
The story of the girl,
and the boy who took her heart away.
It’s no surprise,
we’ve been here before.
Though bridges were burned and
numbers lost -- here we are again.
It’s frustrating --
To walk into a trap willingly.
To ignorantly hold out your heart
as if to say, “Stomp on it.”
Why do we do it?
Why do we put ourselves in
situations that we know can
only end up in flames?
Maybe it is the blind belief
that one day it will stop hurting.
That with each break,
the shell will regrow stronger
and more impenetrable than the last.
Or maybe one day,
after all the rips and tears and pain
that we've selflessly submitted to --
Maybe one day we will no longer be able
to feel a thing.
