Smouldering Shrouds of Feathers

Why is it at night
my darkest fears
and uncertainties
return to roost in the
darkest recessses of my mind?

I wake up and they fly away to
take turns burning their wings
against the sun.
At the end of the day they
come back to me.
They perch in my imagination
and brood in
smouldering shrouds of feathers.

Will this torment ever end?

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