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Anais Vionet Dec 2020
I'm wearing the same old clothes,
binging the same ol’ shows,
seeing the days anastomose.
and waiting for my vaccine dose.

I’m humming the same ol’ songs,
dreading the rerun dawns,
trying to at least appear strong,
but becoming angry and withdrawn.

I'm tired of the same old faces,
of being stuck in these boring places,
of feeling my nights are wasted,
and dreaming of friends embraces.

I'm writing the same ol’ verse.
becoming increasingly terse,
knowing it could be worse,
waiting for the end of this curse.
the 2020 blues is the new national anthem
Poetic T May 2020
Abstract illustration,
for likened is neither
                       words or form.

Were just memories,
                    silhouettes
of then and before, afterimages..

Thinking were real, but were diodes
of light fixed re-watched...
observed a thousand times..

We never realise that we weren't here,
                just a replayed moment...

Look behind you,
        to late..

             were not really here..


"Just a moment being rerun,
                   did you hear me when

I said that, yes that's me not you..
don't worry, just sleep. Shhhhh….

Everything will be fine in the morning...
blake Jun 2018
My nightmares of that evening in January
rerun in my mind like an overplayed television series.
rerun in my mind like a broken record.
rerun in my mind like an intrusive thought.
rerun in my mind like an itch that won't go away.
rerun in my mind
rerun in my mind
rerun

— The End —