Over Thinking Again

My mind becomes my endless spinning wheel, Where every phantom thought begins to feel Like solid stone, a heavy, waking fright, That keeps my quiet shadows up at night. I analyze the things I cannot change, And make the simplest memories look strange. I build a maze inside a single word, And fight the silent ghosts that no one heard. A river trapped inside my tiny cup, I reconstruct the past and mix it up. I guess the future, fear the coming storm, And strip the present of its comfort, so warm. The midnight watchman of a shifting floor, I lock the locks and check the bolted door. The static swells, the shadows start to grow, Trapped in the only labyrinth I know.