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.