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How is it that she always finds herself hurt?
Crying into her pillow over past episodes.
Tears run down the face that always smiles,
Her shoulders are about to cave in;
She’s been through too many trials.
Her arms grow weak; she can’t keep the blows from coming,
She wants to fight back but her screams just evaporate.
Her strength is gone and she is done.
She can’t get past her faults of yesterday,
Wishing her actions were thought out more thoroughly.
Wanting them measured to perfection so regret wasn’t in her vocabulary.
Although she often ssays “regret nothing..”
She always tends to regret something.
Sometimes, she gets this pit feeling that grows her sick.
It is the regret, the self-anger, and the denial
That builds inside her and grows her weak.
The ones she lost, the ones she left, and the ones she once knew
Now fade away into her distant memories.
“Loneliness is scary,” she whispers.
She keeps in so many lies,
From her family.
From her friends.
She’s locked up all her faults of the past in a vault.
No one has the key, therefore she’ll never be freed.
Her emotions pour out of her blood shot eyes,
As she lies there face down in her bed.
Flashbacks blur her vision with images of disaster,
The chaotic mishap of the past’s truths.
She pulls back her pillow to examine the damage she has done,
Only to see another Déjà vu.