In darkness, I am sound.
With the merest silhouette of light
the first of instincts set in, to flee.
In darkness I am content,
I am never let down, nor have I
expectations that are not met.

In darkness I am free to shackle myself
into a fate which I can predict.
I can move and even run, but always
connected with something which will never
turn me away.

In darkness I can speak
to no one and never be forced.
No reason to explain my feelings or
my actions.
Into darkness I may run,
without thinking logically or
realistically. Just flee into
fingers that clutch, which is better
than fingers that brush away.

I am sorry that into this darkness
you may not follow.
I am sorry that I must chose what to be
wrapped into. I am so sorry, my poor
darling. I love you, but I have chosen darkness.