Enough Time in Pause

The night asks questions I can’t answer still.
It picks old wounds and calls it self-reflection.
It drags me backwards against my will,

Demanding explanations and perfection.

Am I the problem? Am I just too much?
Do people leave because they always would?

The mind can turn a memory into a crutch,
Or make a decent man believe he’s no good.

I’ve spent enough nights searching for the cause,
Enough years trying to decode every scar.

Enough time holding life in careful pause,
Waiting to become whoever they all are.

But tonight, for once, I think I’ll let it sit.

No answers. No conclusions.

Just: fuck it