cycle

sometimes i feel
like a sheet of aluminum
a person not real
and slated for repetitive reuse.

it happens again and again
these events and these feelings
it's only a matter of when
and I'll be recycled back in.

i make deals with myself
to avoid these cycles
to put my feelings on a high shelf
and escape these doubts.

i find myself captivated
by the people around me
my reason sedated
and drunk with irrationality.

then i do all the wrong things
in all the wrong ways
so my can gets some dings
and i'm thrown away.

sometimes i wonder
if that's all there is
in this life to plunder
in an existence of cycles.

it's a circle of sorrow
that we cannot escape
not today or tomorrow
an eternity of hate.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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