PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

And I can't count all of the heartaches

I've caused myself from what I've done then redone

It's like my conscience is inaudible

Or that I choose to ignore its voice

But it never stays that silent

In this cyclic kinda noise

It's a deja vu

A wicked voodoo

And it's all thanks to me

I think I'm in a tizzy

In a cyclic kinda dizzy

I keep calling myself out

But the line is always busy

And no matter what good cards I hold

For some reason I always choose to fold

And fall back into this misery

You'd think that after a good while

I'd start to get the picture

But I'm beginning to believe

That I'm a unfixable fixture

This history repeats itself

And I cannot control myself

From weaving this web that I weave

I think I'm in a tizzy

In a cyclic kinda dizzy

I keep calling myself out

But the line is always busy

And no matter how what good cards I hold

For some reason I always choose to fold

And fall back into this misery

I swear that fixing this mess is on my list of things to do

But I either don't know how or I don't care to