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written by: The Quiet Quill



What is it that happens at night?
For these Demons to land in my mind?
For a box of banshees to be unopened
And unleashed at this uneasy time?

They arrive in my thoughts, appear under my skin,
And show themselves in tormented tears.
They kick, they prod and they question,
Keep me awake with their sniggers and sneers.

At this hour, my mind is their playground
And I am dizzied under the strain.
Sinking slowly into the worst kind of sleep,
They've got the better of me once again.

I'll shut myself away for good,
Cry into my pages until they become
Beautiful words that make others feel,
Leaving me feeling empty and numb.

I awake and they've all disappeared.
All is quiet, still and bright.
I continue my day like nothing has happened.
What is it that happens at night?

The Quiet Quill

The Quiet Quill

AUGUST 2016 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
Writer. Poet. Observer.

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.
The Quiet Quill

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