Why is it that every poem I read
relates to my life?

Why is it that every song
resembles my feelings
and brings out in words
the thoughts that I do not dare to share?

Why is it that I wait too long to open up
and then I find myself alone
with this open box
all these feelings that everyone can see into.
and I cannot seem to close this box.
How could I have forgotten?
I gave you,
the damn lock and key...

Why is it that I am up in the middle of the night
Not being able to go back to sleep,
Afraid of playing over the same scenes
that come to mind,
like unfinished dreams.
Tossing and turning,
Too awake to try and contemplate the importance of this
I know it must be,
because one can only go as far as you let them,

I yawn.

From being tired of [not] being tired
I realize.
It seems I let you go as far as you wanted
and I gave you the OK to do with me what you pleased.

& I doze off.

Leaving the routine
just trying to get the rest I need,
Although you did change the locks on me...