Head First Hoping

Stephanie Bennett-Henry – a poem of a repetition and seeking a difference.

Stephanie Bennett-Henry

The sadness sneaks up on me often enough,

I should expect it by now, but I never do.

I never do. I’m the last to know. The deer

in the headlights, frozen in this moment,

I never know how the hell to escape this.

But I can tell you, Hell is hot. It doesn’t burn

less with each time it engulfs me. No.

You don’t become accustomed to the fire.

You never get comfortable with the sky dive

living on your insides, it’s head first hoping.

It’s a wish that maybe this time you’ll land

on your feet, maybe this time you’ll make it.

And I always end up saying, well next time

everything will be different, I’m sure of it.

I am learning slowly with a kick and a scream

that there’s not a next time. This is it.

I tell myself to snap out of it. Just stop…

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