The things that we find late in the night are most often unsavoury.  Things that we hope to be without, they often present themselves as things that we seek, but quickly turn to what we need least of all.

In the dark everything can seem calm, even peaceful, but it is just the image of what night wants you to believe.  An image that convinces you to drop your guard, which lets in the thoughts that turn the dark silence into your unsettled mind.

A late hour in the night, the world is still.

Of complete silence, I have found my fill.

No noise carrying up from the streets below,

Dead air broadcast across my radio.

Here in the dark, I just sit still.

In the air, I can feel the dark’s subtle chill.

No desire to rise from my place in this chair,

Sitting here just breathing, this cool stale air.

Alone here in the night, it haunts me still.

The thought of it creeps in making me feel ill.

No ability to fight it, to my defenses it’s blind.

Breaking my will, it weighs on my mind.

In the still of the night, I still can’t forget it.

Still it remains here on my mind, still here I sit.

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