To Myself

What is it about going back that makes me so distraight? 
I'm always feeling caught.
There's reality, the present, and then there's the ever foreboding past.
It's said to shape your life, but what about the gift it gives of strife?
It's never satisfied with haunting your mind. 
Not until you surrender and go crazy.
Not until you let it stay.
But I refuse to surrender to the way, to the way it makes me feel.
I don't want to be gone too soon.  I just want to forget.
But where's the seal?
Where's the seal of forgiveness?
The letter is always open and filled with emptiness.
Why is past's letter always perturbing me with its rules and sorrows?
Please replace the seal so I can have tomorrow...
To myself.