Repetition

I can’t write about freedom to love and express love;
Because I’ve written about it already.
I can’t write about womanhood;
I’ve said too much about that.
I can’t write even about my doubts about my sanity;
Any reader would’ve gathered that by now.

Even original ideas I come up with have been thought of by someone who died centuries before my birth.

I find repetition quite irritating.