Boxed

And there are many layers now, I can't tell anymore..
But what I know is that I couldn't look at you
It may break
And it may pour
The guard may be gone.

Maybe it's the wee hours of the night
Or the tiring of laughter
Maybe it's the lack of understanding
And the frustrations hidden in the running water and soapy dishes

Or maybe it's the hardened hearts
Who claim to have forgiveness
But again and once again
Dig up the old

May be the putting away of life into boxes
And finding memories that bring joy to the dull
Yet into the boxes it has to go
And a new box when the other becomes full

It may be the words spoken
But no longer matters
Because it's done

Or the words spoken
With such urgency
That brings stress to one

And maybe, it just may be the high hopes I have on myself
And on you
That brings such frustration
But forgetting that it is solely on You that high hopes should lie
...