It isn’t the absence of light, darkness. It’s the lack of hope. It’s the lack of belief In the abstract shadows of light, Like creatures that crawl out of your bed, The uncertainty of pain that begins to clot In heartaches that can’t be cured. It’s not the night, darkness. It’s the day without the sun, It’s the day without a light, It’s a mirage, delusional despondency. It’s when your eyes close to escape the cold. It claws your hands and cages your morals. It’s a pacifier for knowing that life is death And death is life, just full of darkness. It’s not the feeling of pain, darkness. It’s void that fills emptiness. Darkness, bits of what you’ve lost and Why you’re lost. As long as you’re lost, It prevails, darkness.
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