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I repeat myself, so I don’t forget
What’s important to my soul, and yet
All the words I say quickly disappear
At the slightest chance I might overhear
Myself whisper truths that I might regret.

Why do hidden thoughts still pose such a threat
That I can’t express? Why are needs unmet
Left to gather dust? When my breath is clear,
I repeat myself.

But my silence grows, so my soul, upset
By my own dislike for each bleak vignette,
Tries to soothe itself, tries to calm this fear
And release my hopes to the atmosphere,
Where my echo rings as a strange duet.
I repeat myself.