The Quiet Of The Night
In the quiet of the night, I sit still
and imagine who I could have become
untroubled by the world, bound by my will,
without inner strife or coming undone.
I may be relentless, but I am forced
time and time again to remain lowly,
to call this dark pit my home and sole source
of life and nothing more — and it kills me.
Every voice in my head tells me to leave,
to let go of all hope and surrender,
but in rage and defiance, I believe
that my spirit…