In the quiet hours of night, it creeps,
A shadow cast by deeds undone,
A whisper in the stillness, deep,
The weight of guilt, a burden spun.

Memories replay, relentless streams,
Of choices made and actions taken,
In the theater of my dreams,
Where conscience stirs, never mistaken.

Faces haunt and voices linger,
Echoes of the past, they call,
Pointing with an unseen finger,
To moments where I let them fall.

Redemption’s path is long and winding,
Through valleys dark and mountains high,
Yet hope remains, a silver lining,
A chance to heal, to rectify.