Harping on the past,
wishing it would rather last,
reliving those scenes in your mind,
holding onto stuff,you should leave behind,
no use adding onto the pile,
but you simply love doing what's futile.

Playing out the possibilities,
the innumerable ifs and thens,
modifying those buts and whens,
trying hard to place that reason and hence,
no use in fitting the final jigsaw tile,
but you simply love doing what's futile.

Waiting on the same spot for days,
watching out for what's long gone,
wishing there had been other ways,
or maybe someway to be reborn,
no use in thinking all the while,
but you simply love doing what's futile.

Putting sentences together in your mouth,
when its too late to say those aloud,
musing on the right words to say,
when the ship has already left the bay,
no use crying while she walks the aisle,
but you simply love doing what's futile.