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The Night
The night feeds on the weak,
Hunting down the hopeless and meek,
I try and cry myself to sleep,
To hush that devil in my head,
That lures me to the gates of hell.
At times I purposely give in,
Letting the dark grow within,
I feel it take over my brain,
Filling it with thoughts of disdain.
© Oindrilla
Hunting down the hopeless and meek,
I try and cry myself to sleep,
To hush that devil in my head,
That lures me to the gates of hell.
At times I purposely give in,
Letting the dark grow within,
I feel it take over my brain,
Filling it with thoughts of disdain.
© Oindrilla
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