over and again

the folks impromptly packed and jetted off to Bintan for their apparent 24th year.
giving me only a quarter of a days notice.
yet another repetition.
the girl ,the house and her puddles.

along the way,they vanish.
so here I stand,
staring at the past ,
apprehensive to grasp what the future holds.

afraid to let go.

"when I was little ,I ask my mommy what would I be?
would I be pretty?
would I be famous?
this what she said to me,
oh sala sala whatever will be will be
the future's not ours to see "

be my reflection, show me what I fail to see,
crippled inside out ,I seek refuge.