Garibaldi's POV poem, set either before Season 1 or after "Phoenix Rising".

REFLECTIONS: MY RESCUER, MY MURDERER (OR: "Alcoholism" to the tune of "One Art")

Nightmares are not so great a thing to overcome.
Despite their vivid malice they are mere shadows
That are dispelled and vanish with the rising sun.

Be they a silent horror or a perpetual drum
Beating on, I know a way to still them.
Nightmares are not so great a thing to overcome.

I would resent the accusation that I run
Away from life, if it was not true. Alas, I cannot bear
To spend the night alone, forever waiting for the morning sun.

And so I hide inside my mind, just wait and listen
To their footsteps, wait until they leave me to myself.
Nightmares are not so great a thing to overcome.

It is pathetic, stupid, yet I clutch my guide, my serum
For the night, hold it close and drink,
Drink deep - to lay prostrated, comatose, until I'm rescued by the sun.

A cursed pariah, my rescuer of sorts, you shun
Him, thrust temptation and oblivion away. Not I.
Nightmares are not so great a thing to overcome.
One night, I know, I will not live to see the rising sun.

fin