Russell G. Robison


Repetitious and redundant
Are still words that come around
They travel through my head
In search of finding common ground

Trying now to say something
That I cannot get said
As they rise again and storm
Back through my aching head

Tiresome they are I tell you
a daily diatribe
Wrestling with the darkness in me
That I can’t describe

Words being said inside my head
And bouncing off the wall
Like in an echo chamber
‘Cause I’m crazy after all