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I fear the night,
Dark it is and filled with fright.
I whistle as though I do not care,
Yet, I know the night and I despair.
I fear the night.
It surrounds my soul.
Darkness creeps and swirls until,
As black as coal, and deadly still.
I fear the night.
Alone in my bed,
Alone in my soul,
Alone in my head.
I cannot sleep,
Awake I weep,
I ask the Lord my soul to keep.
But still, the fear remains so deep.
Yes, I fear the night.
No matter if a verse I say,
No matter if I kneel to pray,
I look forward to the coming day,
Yes, I fear the night.
© S.W. Biddulph
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Spilled Ink: A book of Poems by S.W. Biddulph
PoetrySpilled Ink is a small chapbook of poetry written by S.W. Biddulph. These poems range from neo-formalism to free verse and describe life from the deeply emotional to the macabre nuances and realism.
