What Haunts Me

Troubled mind, what ails you so?
You search for kinder things, but glow
When dark has come and drawn its shade.
You take the things that I forbade
And trembling starts in corrupted bouts;
It is something I could do without.

O', my fancies; o', the black
That comes with everything I lack.
It does not yield fermenting dreams,
But rather the scorn of what it seems.
I cancel words, I cancel signs,
And wish so that the time was nigh.

I lie in tears and somber guilt,
Which claim the cries of ardent lilts
In ever-folding streams of heat.
I render cold, but troubles meet
When delusion satisfies the gloom,
Making way for all the room.

It is time to sleep, my weary head
Yet, not for you... I wish you dead!
You dread me so in every light
And bring about my only fright!
Why you rest not, I do not know;
I scream and shout, but you will not go!