Broken Record.

Hate begat hate,
You’re a dusty old broken record,
scratched forever repeating the same old tunes,
never changing,
A or B side,
you tell songs of a broken man,
sad songs,
lost loves,
forgotten years,

I stood up for you,
defended you,
yet,
no matter what record that you play,
on the turntable of life,
around and around,
drowning metaphors,
howling teddy boy,

My memories are connotations,
with singers who had passion,
famed,
inevitably tragic,
crashed accidents,

I dislike those songs,
sad songs,
but sometimes i sing them fondly,

I grew up listening to you,
speaking through that music,
because your own words were wrong,
ill expressed,
not the best for a girl so young,

And if you laugh,
just once more at my loss,
I’ll be gone,
I will snap that vinyl In half,
like an earthquake splits a continent,
then keep walking on.

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