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.