You can’t hold on to ghosts, yet somehow they haunt me,
Like a broken record.
Over and over and over and over and over.
I know the price of freedom,
But what happens when you’ve spent it all?

People come and go, yet somehow their voices stay with me,
Like a broken record.
Over and over and over and over and over.
When insanity blooms we tend to move,
When my shadow leaves, their words follow me.

My skin sheds layer after layer yet the scars always seem to follow me,
Like a broken record.
Over and over and over and over and over.
I used to feel this maddening buzzing in my head,
Now, the loopy melodies bring me comfort on lonely nights.

I try closing doors yet I still smell the bodies on the other side,
Like a broken record.
Over and over and over and over and over.
Often I drown in the deep hoping to find air.
If the switch is flipped, the curtain pulled, the heart glued,

Where am I?