How he sleeps in the corners of darkness,
. . In the welcoming sorts in my mind;
Will he sleep until the blood flow halts,
And the secrets I've kept must unwind?
For he stirs in the bit of what's conscious,
Though hiding in what sha'nt awake . .
How long will he keep my sorrows comp'ny,
How long 'til my walls of stone break?
These 'mares have woke me from slumber,
And smothered my dreams full of peace;
No matter how quiet he sleeps in my head,
My heart still refuses release
Copyright © Dana Smith