10/25/2015 | 11.25 pm
Some nights the pm hours are nice
The sounds of the crickets
Cool air through an open window
The certain smell that I don't seem to catch
In the bustle of the day
The nocturnal animals will carry on with their lives
But the other times
I'm fucking ruined
The only thing I can hear is my own choked sobs
Muffled only by my hand and will
I only see terrors
Images in the darkness of my walls
These nights always seem a little darker
These nights always seem a little longer
I can't feel the comfort of the night air
I can't smell the familiar smells known only to the night
All I feel is the overwhelming hatred
Directed at myself.
Sometimes the nights are okay,
But mostly my undoing.
The sounds of the crickets
Cool air through an open window
The certain smell that I don't seem to catch
In the bustle of the day
The nocturnal animals will carry on with their lives
But the other times
I'm fucking ruined
The only thing I can hear is my own choked sobs
Muffled only by my hand and will
I only see terrors
Images in the darkness of my walls
These nights always seem a little darker
These nights always seem a little longer
I can't feel the comfort of the night air
I can't smell the familiar smells known only to the night
All I feel is the overwhelming hatred
Directed at myself.
Sometimes the nights are okay,
But mostly my undoing.