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Broken Record

My brother’s like a broken record.  He tells me about how we used to bike around the neighborhood pretending we were race car drivers, and how we’d gained multiple knee scrapes from turning the curb too fast. He’ll tell me this story twice, thrice, or even four times in a row, and laugh about the good ol’ days. I laugh with him, because though he doesn’t remember that he’s already told me this story for the fourth time in a row, he does remember the fun we had. My brother’s like a broken record, but I don’t mind one bit.

Alone in the Desert

Alone in the desert,

Alone in my heart,

I wonder what to do,

I wonder where to start.


My life’s upside down,

And inside out.

I am filled with all this fear

And all this doubt.


Voices in my head

Keep calling my name.

I can’t quiet them.

They cannot be tamed.


One tells me go home,

The other says move on.

Which voice do I heed,

Which voice will lead me on?


I could go back home,

But then I’d have to explain

My reason for running off;

My parent’s words caused me pain.


But I already know

How that story ends.

They’ll say sorry and beg

For a chance to make amends.


But they’ve made empty promises

Time and time again.

There hasn’t been much change.

Should I really go back, then?


No, I shall walk on

Through this vast desert plain.

Even if I die out here,

At least I won’t be in pain.

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