With the night brings a void
Our souls can see in the dark
Our minds are nocturnal
We are more aware when the sun disappears.
The moonbeams awaken the thoughts we withheld throughout the day.
Anxieties surface and we feel alone,
Falling, falling, falling.
But if you root yourself into something creative these go away, at least for a moment.
Immerse yourself in art.
Drown in colors, words, or sounds.
With each night comes a battle,
But our creations can work as a weapon.
The painter's palette is a shield.
The musician's voice is a battle cry.
The poet's pen is a sword
Slicing through the pain the night brings.
YOU ARE READING
Isolated
Short StoryPlace for my short stories and poems. Mostly just thoughts I write out in metaphors and similes.
