I’m hiding in these words of late,
from things that I’m supposed to do,
towards the keys I gravitate,
to write a rhyme or talk to you.
I wish I could prioritise,
and do the things that matter first,
but when I do a traitor tries,
to suck me in and quench my thirst.
I wonder if my destiny,
is losing all the things I own,
and living rough in penury,
lost in a maze my mind has grown.