Unhappy Bygones

These agonies of mine, 

Like quivering strings,

Strummed by hands 

known and obscure,

Echo through my soul,

Reverberating the torments

Of unhappy bygones.

Oh! Is there no respite

From the cruel churn,

This constant chirr,

Wrenching my spirit.

I fear lest I burn it down

With hands of my own,

Else do something worse.