It’s the same old thing,
Same mistakes, sad retakes of déjà vu.
Reluctantly… seems to be a
Revolving door swings back to you.
Can’t be sure that we’ll endure
Whenever fever boils to pitch.
Can’t stand, won’t stand calmly by
As Princess turns to frosty bitch.
Fireworks loaded to explode with
Furious veracity,
Shooting flames into the night
Arousing curiosity
From passersby who blink an eye.
They’ve seen it all before.
The grand display. ‘You go!’ ‘I’ll stay.’
The slamming of the door
Then it all just goes away
As if it were a dream,
And we are left to start again.
Seems to be a theme.
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