Deja Vu

It's one of those days
Want to write so much,
Thoughts paralyze
Just when I felt a breakthrough coming.

Deja Vu
Been meaning to say a lot of things,
To a lot of people
Time runs out
Some die on me, others waiting to.

What is it that stops me,
From being me?
Me
Me stops me from being me.

The urge is always there
To be what is intrinsic
The thrust is always there
To be as they would like me too.

Guess who wins.

Destined to become what I'm turning into?
A buffoon by instinct?
A cynic by habit?
So objective, it's almost a crime?

The absence of wild laughter;
Bereft of eyes with tears;
Looking for meaning and purpose;
...

Instinct leads me to refuge in the crowd
A lot of eyes, all so different
I am what they want me to be
Turning into a chameleon; Losing me.

What does one find solace in?
Numbers, that in retrospect
Are just numbers after all?

Deja Vu
Thoughts paralyze.
Just when I felt a breakthrough coming