New Year?

Is it another cover-up of what exist?
Or a repackaging of what is “old”?
Am I veiling deeper what I am not ready to face?
By tricking myself a new fresh start?

I am not spoiling the “new year” (if only there is one)
For the mind has seen it all
An ancient game
Created new again

Liken an old house
A new coat of paint spread

So is the mind

Nothing new
Except an old house
Waiting wearily
to be falled

Awaiting the dawning of freedom

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