Oh, how I love what the night looks like, as it is the time wherein moon says hi
And cats get active, plus the stars will make you sigh
The street lamps are open
And my papers are with my pen
People will talk and will stop when they become too loud
Footsteps are more vigilant and significant, it's part of the sound
The night is truly beautiful that gives us a wonder of rest
But on the other side, night welcomes the unwanted guests
Loud pang in your chest attacks, future enter your mind and pillows get sucks
Tears are escaping your eyes and the night cold wind might take away the pain where it lies
It can be a physical figure, might be following your pace, and dwelt on something you don't want to engage
Oh there it is, the visitor that visits someone in their head, sometimes in their heart, but often sometimes in an awful bed
Oh how I love the smell of the night
You might be wondering how could I with the crime that I cite?
It is not the sunsets fault, that our wound are battered with salts
As the night is a permission, for you to be alone, to be weak, and prayers to seek
So I still love the lingering in my nose, wind of the cold cold moon
Comforting me, it's okay to cry, pain would heal soon
I love how it's a fragrance of breeze, filled with experience, horrible it may, but we will seize
A/N:
Ideas from shayne_writes!! Hi unnieee here's the smell of the night!
YOU ARE READING
One Hundred Fifty
RandomFifty, Fifty, Fifty A writing challenge for myself is to create fifty poems, fifty essays, and fifty one-shot stories, every single prekeng day to make it a hundred and fifty days of honing my skills and giving sparks to my interest. Here's the deal...
