the veiny silhouette of the trees
in front of the sky
who looks as though it was bullied
for only being baby blue,
allows the night to seep
into your soul and pick out the sadness from your bones.

we all feel how it changes,
the absence of light
does not mean the absence of feelings.

the vulnerable blackness only make you
more defenseless
up against the melancholy
of your soul,

the gloom oozing out of your pores
as if you are sweating sadness
from all of the running away.

once daylight slips behind our world,
the feelings of security hides with it
as the moon brings out the worst in you,
as if you are a werewolf.

because we all feel how it changes,
the absence of light
does not mean the absence of feelings.