Déjà Vu Poem by Mozafar Ali

Déjà Vu,
I lay in my bed,
Fed up of wondering,
You’re smiling while I’m suffering,

It’s Déjà Vu,
As I face another sleepless night,
But it’s never Déjà Vu,
Where I’m holding you close and tight,

What is a man to do?
Love is a sickness,
There just doesn’t seem to be a cure,
These Déjà Vu’s I don’t want no more,

Morning and night it’s all the same.
You can’t live with me I can’t without you,
Unbearable pain,
The Déjà Wu plays a horrible game.