again

dear reader,
no....
dear writer,
why all the ink and paper
for silly rhymes you make
up now
and then forget about later?
why all the late nights
that deny you of sleep
but leave you wide-eyed
and eager write?
and why does the truth
feel safe inside this notebook
unlike the truth inside
your heart you so easily
overlook?
your hand writes
and your head spins
while thoughts
stuck on a ferris wheel
go round and round
until they come back again
so dear reader...dear friend,
forgive me if i write
about the same things
twice when there is
so much to be said...

-kayla