Empty Closets and Broken Glue

Insanity is doing the same thing
Again and again,

Going to the same people
Again and again,

When they’re not really there.

Like shouting into an empty closet
Without realising it’s bare.

So I tell myself off,
I stop,
I forget.

My brain pushing me, again,
To openly share,

Expecting different results

Although they’re not really there.

So the silence hits me,
It cuts like a knife.

What did I ever do in this life?
To deserve such little compassion,
To have no respect.

I blame myself.

I introspect.

And then I remember,
Its not me, it’s you.

You’ve never been there,

But you were meant to be my glue.