Sometimes,
You’re lucky just to get back
To where you started,
Not over thinking or
Looking for too much
Just a voice on the telephone
Laughing
Or a string of digits telling you
You’re no longer in exile
Someone or something
Yanking your back
From the edge of extinction
That dark abyss
From which
There can never
Be a return
Sometimes,
You have to try harder
To make certain,
Things never get
That dark again
No more petty jealousies
No more insane swings
Just the slow, steady, predictable
Comfort of standing
On square one
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