history always
repeats itself
and no matter
how deep the scars
the lessons learned
evaporate
as we spin again
and again
and again
ad nauseam

if i have learned
anything from my past
it is that it feels
just as bad
in the present

we are moths
watching as our
brethren
burn to cinders
thinking we
can tame the flame
only to be recycled
back into the same
accursed ashes
to rise again
and again
and again

i feel nauseous
yet the anxiety
never stops
i am tired
yet sleep
never truly comes
over and over
until finally
it all has to
cease