Of the night
The truths that hide in the shadows;
Of the day
And the light that reveals the flaws.
Of the sounds
Which fill the rooms with laughter and tears;
Of the silence
And the demons which it feeds.
Of the crowd
The sense of estrangement which grows;
Of the solitude
Which settles like an unfriendly ghost.
Trapped in the mire of eternity;
And the loss of the ground beneath.
Of the page
Its whiteness screaming in my ear;
Of the words
That give away far too much.
And leaving so much left undone;
And all the doors left unopened.
© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2019