The inescapable feeling
when all the words you’re saying
have been spoken before
but somehow you can’t stop
To keep them in is torture,
holding back is madness,
but repetition is just as maddening
In a world where originality
means as much as authenticity
and all I’m trying to do
is be who I’m meant to be
but no one wants to hear it
as it spills from me
like a volcanic font,
covering everything
in the same old sentiment
Nothing new under the sun, indeed
