sometimes, the darkness fights the light.  
Sending tiny little tendrils of filth into what should be sweet and pure.

sometimes, the light is forced to yield.  
A corner here.  A soul there.

sometimes, the darkness grows.  
Enveloping all that once was good and welcoming.  
Consuming.

sometimes, the light aches.  
Every move and thought tears it apart.  
No quarter asked; no quarter given.

sometimes, the darkness wins.  

And I am forced to cower,
and pray for dawn.