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Plans that never materialize,
Now, it all seems too familiar
Like pages turned on calendars,
We get the same twelve months to fuck things up,
Year after year,
Mistakes compile themselves in a collage
of senseless patterns
upon my altar of failures,
Maybe I've never looked hard enough,
Maybe there is no pattern.
Redemption has grown
far beyond this feeble grasp,
But I only have myself to blame,
Always so eager to pack my bags,
When I all I need to do is stay.

Posted: 2009-07-01 14:18:27 UTC

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2009-07-04 18:52:01shreya
WOW! Exactly the kind of poetry I love! Beautifully done!

2010-04-01 05:08:00baya
i really love your poem . . . this is how i feel sometimes . . .