I tossed and turned,

Last night’s repose

Gave troubled dreams

And tangled bedclothes.

I suffered in slumber

For considered acts,

That as of yet,

Are not even facts.

Yet dreaming gave me

A most rare look,

At how I will feel,

For actions I took.

How strange to suffer

In darkest night,

For things not done

But only that might.

Yet insight is the greatest tool

And last night’s pain

Saved tomorrow’s fool.

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