Some nights, I dread knowing that I rouse alone while the world is in a deep slumber.
Other nights, I realize that a multitude of souls are roused alongside me, dreading just the same.
We get used to late night yearnings and nagging questions that will never be answered.
We fall into an unhealthy routine, and we never fall out of it.
The dark is a blanket that envelopes us in false safety, and smothers us with pain we've grown fond of.
Loneliness seizes the hearts of somber souls in the night, acting as a captor and as a drug.
YOU ARE READING
Constellations Of The Mind
PoesíaThoughts pulled at random from the jumble of mischief I claim to be my mind.
