Letting Go of the Wheel

Three in the morning, I'm wide awake again. Staring at the

ceiling like it holds the answers there. Replaying every word my boss spoke

yesterday. Wondering if my email sounded wrong in every way. Got my hands

white-knuckled on a wheel that's spinning free. Like black ice on the highway

where I got no guarantee. I'm burning myself out, I'm wearing worry

like a chain. Trying to steer the thunder, trying to redirect the rain.

But you can't control the mountain. Can't control the storm. Can't make the

river listen when it's raging on alone. I'm breaking my own spirit on