Don’t Turn the Lights Out
Sometimes, I just don't want to be left to my own devices.
Perhaps I’d never known in the darkness, forlorn how intwined I’d become with the ravens of home. In the pits of my life barehanded, but a knife I carved myself voids that caved in, highlife. Not just an old friend these shadows do blend and the darkness, it screams of miseries we penned. But then I was blinded your beam, right-minded it fevered my existence old breaths, reminded. Those clouds still lurk I’ve swum in their murk though parted by your grace they await distant hurt. And I . . . I always dread what I say and what I bred don’t turn off your lights my darkness isn’t dead.
