War at Night.

Daytime finds a child
content, and for the most part, mild.
But darkness comes, and the boy is crying.
His soul’s become a savage lion.

Pacing back and forth, angry at the world,
Asleep his life is whipped and whirled.
Teeth clenched and bared like fists of rage,
the lion trapped inside his cage.

Woke this morning, his jaw a mess,
struck out again with a swift clean left.
The mirror in the hallway didn't lie,
he'd even stuck a finger in his eye.

Why does he try to undo
everything that’s been done?

In his sleep.