Same Mistake Over Again

Peeling your skin again, even though you know it will bleed, betting your rent money even though you know it's a need.

Same Mistake Over Again, like a bullet to the brain, never pulling the trigger but always picking up the gun.

It's addictive, adrenaline rush fun, with temporary happiness in your wicked pun.

Even if it's poison all over again, the same regret that pours all over your soul, it's worth the temporary pain.

It's worth the internal sorrow it would bring you in the long run, because you're happy now. You are glad to spend that last dollar on the lottery than food because there's a chance you can win more than you ever had, more than you ever saw in the years you've been alive.

You are okay with being cruel to your children because, at the end of the day, it will make them stronger, even though you've seen how it makes them cry. Sure they might even develop PTSD or childhood trauma like you had. But if it would make them a better and stronger person at the end of the day then it's worth it. 

At least, you tell yourself, crying for pity as the morning birds pass by, thinking about the freedom you could have and how your humanity has trapped you in an endless cycle of greed and work, working so hard your bones ache each day. But as long as you can get enough hope, then it's worth the repeated cycle, the disrespect you get from your boss that you scream at your offspring.

Knowing that they at least deserve better but you spit on them because you've been spit on, you curse at them because you've been cursed at. You hurt them because you've been hurt and it's okay right? If you forget everything you've done by morning and if you watch them take pills by noon to be like you, it's okay, right?

To repeat the cycle and watch them do the same, as their young bones become old you watch the pain fill their eyes because it filled yours. 

They are supposed to give you everything because your mother did the same for you and naturally you gave them life so now that's owed to you. They own you everything, so when you get sick and can't bet your money they bet their own for you, right? They take care of you because they have to, right? Even if people were cruel to you and you did the same to them, they must respect you even with spit on their temples, right?

You are owed that, after all. You endured for them and you, after everything. Even if it hurts to see the same pattern, the same pain, and tattered bones. You want them to be better than you, but you also don't want them to leave. So you step on their shoulders to help you across the wall and leave them on the other side.

Drink a bottle for your pride and drown your lungs, without denying it. Post it on the gram while sighing, knowing that at night you cry. Fake life with every post, fake happiness with every boast. 

You know it burns like the acid you pour into your eyes every night, but you can't help but live the high life. Each decade you hit is a reminder of your used youth so you hide it with blush, hit it with a little touch. You pretend you're still twenty when you know you are high-passed that life, kids, jobs, and wrinkles aging like the wind.

You look at yourself and the mirror is bent, folded in every way reflecting your past ways and current. It hits you like a wave and you can't help but see all the things you caused and all the things you could be, empty-headed with a stubborn mind. Holding your head up high as you anchor yourself for the truth, facing judgment in ways you can't pursue. 

You know you did wrong but you don't want to face it, yes you are human but you always try to change it. Pretend like you are better, perfect in more ways than one, pretty face that has gone numb. Beauty crumbling from within and hitting the out, skin molding into something you would never speak about.

Karma comes in more ways than one and the pain you face has no more fun, truly the help you ask is to stop the tears. Repeating the same mistake and you hear it with your ears, why can't you change, is the question. Why can't you get out of this cage, is the message. Hear it a thousand times again and blame your children for your own sins, they make you drink, they make you spend money, they make you like this. It's them, you love them but you can't take all the blame, after all that very action would drive you insane. 

That's why you know it is true, to drown out their cries with the music you abuse, sing loud, and cast them out. Forget they're there without a doubt because they need this in life, they need to learn how to fight. So, with every action that you take, just know it is for their sake. 

Even if it makes things start again, just know, it was better not to be their friend.

So when close your eyes and you lay asleep at night, you know that putting the knife to their throats was right. You don't think much of it even though they do, you just wish they would forget just like you do. But the pills aren't enough and one of your children isn't growing tough and with the brittle bones they carry, soon they won't be so merry.

A grave is what you will soon visit, earlier than yours with no pivot and yes you could have prevented it but with that stubborn empty head... And the voices that carry throughout your bed, the same mistake will end up repeating and you can't do nothing but see it.