Prometheus

Forgive me............
for I used to keep my poetry a secret
but now it seems that the cat is out of the bag.
Pandora's Box of misery
is my box of music.
Trying not to abuse me
or to be used by,
any and all.
Trojan Horses, they sneak into
my soul and empty their contents,
like old pants pockets.
Lost pictures found in lockets,
give me hopes of memories old.
It's time to take hold of the reins,
and pull myself up by the boot straps.
Perhaps,
it's not for me to figure out.
Writing is the outlet,
the chicken soup for my soul.