Days Debt

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A forgotten day found
At its end.
A silent and empty sound,
In my head.
This something followed me home.
So far.
What it was, lost in the loam,
Now marred.
Beneath the earth now buried,
Remembered.
I miss how I was carried
Through December.
With winter at its end,
And springs birth,
There is a maddness to which I tend,
Not of this earth.
My follower I’ve discovered,
This shadow.
By the light its been governed
And fallow,
This tired soul waits.
For tomorrow.
Now my sleep baits
Are low.
This is how my fatigue collects debt.
One payment will be missed I fret.

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