Analysis and too much of it.

Analyse much my thoughts,

of this 'm guilty some days.

A confession of sorts,

'll write-confess, feel better today.

It gets to other selves,

I have no doubt. I try grudge not.

On days, it gets to m'self !

I try I try to stop.

Analysis, I love your company.

Be my friend. Don't misunderstand me.

But our friendship overdone and I'll crazy.

You're a mode but also a drug, believe you me.

Over-Analysis, you're surefire enemy !

You might win, hope not, but'll resist bravely.

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PS : a 14-line poem, not a Sonnet.
Mistakenly thought otherwise the poet,
until he learnt that the form is stricter,
battle he must the Iambic Pentameter !