Maybe the night isn’t for me, or was it made for people like me, who can’t figure out anything about this world.
And this all is coupled by silence and in that silence lays the screams.
When the moon hits high on skies, I escape in my silence.
When the moon hits high on skies, and in those times when I can’t bring my senses in my control. I feel lost. Maybe the night isn’t for me, or was it made for people like me, who can’t figure out anything about this world. Staring walls blankly when the hour clock runs fast in night, and feeling an irresistible urge to run away from everything.
I can’t seem to recall what kinds of sins I have committed, that I am given the sentence of this incomplete existence to be felt every night.
Do I hate nights? No, but I have all the reasons to escape it. Maybe I am afraid of nights, cause night was created for confrontation. The ugly kind of confrontation, the kind where you have to answer to yourself, you have to face the greatest demon. The demon living within you, to know the real you…
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