Lying in my bed, and I can't sleep,
There are too many thoughts running deep.
I don’t know how to make them fade,
It’s a battle within that can't be swayed.

I’ve done everything wrong, not a **** thing right,
I close my eyes, yet they stay open wide.
Am I lost, or am I broken?
A question left unspoken.

I write on empty pages so they might feel whole,
I wonder—if I spoke, could I fill my soul?

Have you ever wondered why stars shine at night?
When all is dark, do you still need light?
I think they’re the battle scars of the sky,
A thousand paper cuts before it dies.

I believe something hides behind the dark,
Consuming it slowly, leaving its mark.
I think the night sky is an armor,
Shielding us from the bright demon,
Waiting to collect us in the cruel morning.

They feed on our hearts, our souls like fuel,
Yet these are just theories I cannot prove.
Still, there’s a line that rings true:
"Dark is not scary; dark is poetry."