Short poems

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The tyranny is that
I am what I used to hate
The jocularity is that
I hate what I used to be
The reality is that
I am in a self loathing loop
The tragedy is that
I cannot find my way out.

You come again and again
On the same path where I stand
You look at me again and again
With the same eyes
In which in I once drowned.
And like always
You leave again
And like always
I wait on that same path
Waiting for you to come
again and again.
And I don't know when this will end
And somewhere I don't want this to end.

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