Repetition

I sit here in this stifling place.

While you drone on, you drone.

What you say is meaningless, though.

You simply repeat what we already read.

Why did I read it, if you're gonna say it?

Sure, you add some.

But you know what I think?

You.

Are.

Talking.

To.

Yourself.

 

I raise my hand—you ignore it.

A moment later—you steal my thoughts.

You just want to hear your own voice.

You just want to act like you know things.

In reality, you’re just reading a summary.

Or so it seems.

 

I shouldn’t even bother to think.

I shouldn’t bother to waste my attention on you.

Your voice is a nice steady droning white noise.

 

Elder? No.

Peer? Perhaps, or perhaps not even.

 

Why are you doing this?

Do you not trust us?

 

Are you just…are you stealing?

 

You’re like one of them—Those Who Steal.

My hand goes up—split-second-too-late.

You speak my mind—do I even need to?

 

Wait—what did you say?

Should I have paid heed?

Oh, nevermind.

It doesn’t really matter.

Nothing you say matters.

 

Then there’s you—you and your kin.

You who engage—in those silly activities.

But am I really any better than you?

I miss the starter—the point of transition,

And now I can’t follow—this lengthy tangent.

 

Now you’re actually speaking, and making sense.

What you are saying—is actually worth hearing.

Or so I think.

 

ARE YOU DEAF?

WHY IS THIS SO LOUD?

WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?
I CAN’T HEAR WHAT I AM!

 

“Man,” “man,” “MAN!”

Gross.

 

- Lily