Poem -

That broken record ?

That broken record ?

Talking to your’s truly happens alot..am I getting senile and losing the plot ?
I guess I should worry when I answer myself..now that would be a sign of my deteriorating health..

Mind you I know that I am not alone 
I have passed people muttering away and not holding a phone
Sometimes in my moments of need I will curse insomnia that is annoying indeed
But most of the time I just chatter away breaking out into a song on constant replay

I sing when I’m sad.. I shall croon when I am blue.. it’s a habit of mine.. when I’ve nothing to do.. my mindfulness is always full of mixed up melodies.. songs from my childhood are invaluable to me..
I reminisce music from my memory traces.. I can still hear the street buskers in faraway places

You see there are always thoughts amidst my head.. as I fail to shut off within my bed
I am like that broken record that is forever on repeat, though I can think silently and be discreet
Haha I never tire at the sound of my own voice which is a blessing in disguise coz I have no choice..

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Comments

author
Jill Tait

Teehee that’s me ?❤️❤️?

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