Why, oh why?!
My insides cry
Rhetorical questions
I cannot deny

These queries; my failings
Begin life as thoughts
That turn into monsters
Which appear self taught

They rip up the turf
Touch the base of my brain
And sneak into places
I'd rather remained

Untouched and forgotten
Locked and ignored
Yet the monsters, or demons,
and gremlins use force

Which remind me of times,
And figures, and places
That hold me to rights
And detain me in phases

But the real problem here
Is my love of what's past
For to remember the first
Is to recap the last

And of course there's the middle
That eternal abyss
Where the ghosts will all gather
In my honour; they kiss