Grieving mind won't rest

Written in a state of insomnia when my brain was once again refusing to switch off for the night

It is at this time of night that the ghosts and demons of my past return in force, into the beaten fortress of my tired mindscape.

Whether recent relegations or relics from an ancient history; all, it seems, must have their airing and be graced an audience within the confines of my battered skull.

Not yet the time of blissful slumber and repose; the spectres of my yesteryears desire a voice and must be heard.