The Terrible Conscious Self
Taunting me from the ceiling
The night is something to be feared
Terrifying and all-consuming
Not in the shadows or the silence
But in the terrible conscious self
You will come to your senses
You will see right through me
You will have had it up to here
You will put your foot down
The world will have stopped turning
When I eventually wake to the morning news
There will have been no alarms
No four-minute warning
No emergency service
Just me, empty-handed and empty-hearted
You will turn off the life support
You will prioritise
And there won't be a right to appeal
Or any consolation
The night is something to be feared.
No comments:
Post a Comment