repetition

Robbed from your soul. 
Deprived of proof. 
 
There is no convincing you. 
 
Everything is fucked,
and whisked away from you 
like a plastic bag

escaping with the wind. 
 
You wouldn’t have be able 
to hold onto it even if you tried.
 
Despondency calls

‘check mate’  The winner once again....