Repetition.. The Father of Learning?

Is repetition truly the father of learning? 
Because I've allowed myself to fall back into your bed, to run back into your arms, to go back to what we used to be in the hopes that maybe one day, maybe some day we could go back to what we once were, in my imagination.
Still I have yet to learn my lesson, even after all this repetition.

This pattern of behavior seems to be engraved into my skin, I know it like the palm of my hand.
I can recite the story of me and you if someone were to wake me from my sleep at 3AM on a cold winters night.

I could tell the tale of how I've given you my whole heart, my only heart and of how you toy with her as if you don't care that in you hands you hold the very thing that keeps me alive.
I would tell the tale of how every time your body calls for me I run to you with no shame.
I could tell of the numerous times I've confessed my undying love for you, to you and how you hit me with rejection and games where you play pretend.  Act as though you love me but never commit to this tall tale you tell.

If repetition were the father of learning I'd have learned a long time ago that you do not love me, that you do not care, that you are simply an actor who enjoys his role as king in the drama that this delusional girl has written.
That nothing that I do or give you will ever make you want me or need me the way I know I deserve.
If repetition were the father of learning I'd have packed up my heart and walked out on you about a few eons ago but I guess it is not.
For just like a fourth year student stuck in 1st year for the fourth time I refuse to move on.

Repetition Is Not The Father of Learning. Not for me, not when it comes to us.