Lights out, it’s a quiet one tonight.
Watch the firelights in the windows blow out,
dim the world so it’s okay,
because tonight is for yourself and a little pain.
Tonight, tonight,
when silence cuts the cords
holding up the tension you conveniently forgot
to mention to anyone else
and it falls on your shoulders,
where it breaks like glass,
even though you’re older
and this isn’t supposed to happen anymore.
Tonight at midnight you’ll let go,
and fight against yourself,
for yourself,
with yourself,
stuck in this special kind of hell
that only exists when the clock strikes twelve.
And you hide from the shadows on the wall,
the ones that watch your graceless fall from dignity's esteem,
though later I’m sure you’ll take back
every “God save me,”
that you whispered on a broken lisp from your split lip
bleeding from biting so hard, no one can hear,
there can’t be anything too loud from the part of you
that screams about how smiling is an art you’ve perfected,
even as it’s laughing at how disgusting you are in your head.
You know you’re a disaster at best.
There’s something to be said for lonely nights at midnight:
You’re a lot stronger by the first sight of dawn
(though by that time it usual feels like you’re too far gone).