thrill of the night

There’s a part of me that seeks the thrill that comes with the night.

A part that searches for any chance to lick a tear from my cheek.

There’s a fraction of my being that refuses to fight.

An ounce of my blood that screams ‘I am too weak’.

But if it were true, those thoughts so long before

That once joy is found, it’s merely a facade

Then maybe dying is envious, who would dare seek a cure?

And yet I know I’m okay, so I hide with a nod.

I fear the night yet hate the light.

Who would have thought?

Author's Note

critique critique critique critique