In the darkness of nights,
Utter silence being the only thing 'heard',
A whip of memories-beloved memories
(dragging the well-hid wills out of the walls
Into the open)
Creating,out of gloom,
An undesirable flash of light-torturing the very substance of eye-
Which but the day did well,
And now the night,in question,better!

In the brightness of days,
Damning all to the delusion of wellness,
The Sun,
(With all 'his' vehemence and maleficence,in a villainous deliberateness)
***** the last vial of that mirth,
One might,at night find.
Alas, all that remains,
Is an empty vessel,
Worthless.