The bad things
Always play out
Inside my mind
Before sleeping
When intrusive thoughts
Have their chances
At ruining dreams
Every night

Where this headspace
Always seems dark
While our TV plays
As I wrestle
With flashing lights
Between memories
Soon waking us up
More disturbed

Like film scenes
Torn from old reels
Which burned so fast
After learning
Such days we miss
Become burdens
Weighing down hope
Barely left

If predicting fate
Too unreal
All souls must brave
Still uncertain
That any good God
Could just dangle
Over faithful hearts
Seeking rest

By enduring fears
They can’t shake
Or redeeming lives
Nearly wasted
And running away
Towards obsessions
Hiding happiness
Under success

But asking each moon
For escape
Only finding hurt
Upon begging
Hitting pillows
Quietly thinking
Bedroom shadows
Of horror turn true.

• J. Pigno