I’ve erased these words,
far too many times
for me to whine
about how they do not
rhyme.
It is irrelevant, though,
my words and how often I press
delete. delete. delete.
As I click repeat. repeat.
repeat.
And it doesn’t make sense,
none of it does.
It doesn’t have to, though.
Because wherever I go,
my words are my own.
Even on shuffle,
they still repeat. repeat.
repeat.
And even as I press forward
I still delete. delete.
delete.
These images,
the memories of my past.
always coming to haunt me,
always on repeat. repeat.
repeat. and still...
I cannot. delete.
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