Bedtime poems

“This is it. I’m done”,

Is a lie

I keep making. 

Just when I see no reason

In continuing,

I look back and 

Irrationally decide

To give it one last shot.

I’m pretty sure that one’s called

A thousand times before.

Because I’m a stubborn believer

Of endless second chances.

With my mouth,

I declare my defeat.

With my feet,

I keep going backwards.

And so in the end,

I am stuck.

While everyone else has moved on,

I keep giving chances

To the ghosts of the past. 

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