written by: The Quiet Quill
Night, dark and those familiar sounds,
Of Demons arriving to put my spark out,
They hold my eyes open once again,
I think, "I'm so tired and I need a friend".
I still can't sleep and it is half past three,
I'm starting to think there is something wrong with me,
I pick up the phone or I knock on your door,
You say, "Please, my friend, you can't do this anymore".
It's starting to rain and it's cold inside,
There's a voice in head that I can't abide,
I knock on your door or I pick up my phone,
And say, "Please, my friend, you can't leave me alone".
Tangled tears and a faded smile,
You've seen this coming for a while,
I walk around in a heavy haze,
You say, "How do we get you out of this daze?".
I've strange ideals about what I should be,
And distorted dreams keep taunting me,
Ghosts linger around me from way back then,
You say, "Only you make this torture end".
I stop. I listen. And I know you're right.
I'll close my eyes to lock those Demons out of sight.
I'll breathe, keep strong, and rest my head now comfortably,
And stop picking holes in my frayed tapestry.
An open book with a few words tucked away. I have many thoughts to think and many feelings to feel, which I exorcise through poetry; my therapy.