Remainders

It’s not the second thoughts I dread,
but third and fourth and fifth instead—
those nights spent worrying on the pillow
while night winds howl and curtains billow.
The whine of air through frame and screen,
those curling winds that moan and keen,
echoing agonies of mind—
the doubts that blindly search and wind
through the corridors of my brain,
shedding parts that then remain.
Those times I knew that it was wrong,
but nonetheless, I went along.
Minor misdeeds I didn’t confess
left wandering my subconsciousness.
Though in our choices, we may not budge,
we are our own severest judge.
If on first thought we do not act,
those guilts pursue. It is a fact.

The prompt today was “second thoughts.”