They wait for me,
Knowing that I shall arrive,
I guess they always will,
Patient, while I am alive.
They sit, red eyed, in the corner,
Helping me revisit
The places I've seen,
The scenes in which I've played the leading role.
Should I expect respite?
Release?
I think not,
I guess I have got just desserts.
I have tried
Since these days,
To play a different role,
But the whole of me fails to escape.
It seems, to me
That it is not possible
To dismiss these night horrors,
However much I try.
Maybe I
Should simply give in,
And let past sin
Have it's head.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn
