Fool

Some things will never change.

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The dripping stains I see them clear,
with every passing wave,
I stay still and feel,
the tears falling onto my shirt.
They plummet with a heaviness unseen,
unwitnessed and unfelt before.
Like the rain in October,
slightly felt and clearly seen.

With the foolishness of a fool
I tread heavily into maze,
full of despair and agony,
burning like indistinguishable fuel.
My heart clasped with a cumbersome
ashamed feeling of a daze.
I feel sick in my stomach
as I never fail to amaze,
the belligerent fool in me.

The same mistakes over and over again.
I get disgusted with myself sometimes,
from the pathetic, finicky heart of mine,
that never seems to give me any time,
to process things,
and tread with refrain.

I fall in love too easily,
and I will always remain a fool.
Someone please help me,
to find the fucking cure.

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