the night takes a turn and it's no longer your friend- holding your hair with your head in the toilet, or taking you to see a movie- the way colors can light up in the dark. it's stars become hazy and the hands that cradled you once so gently, become talons. the night will eat you up little girl and spit you out into a painting abstract. you'll be a crude cave drawing on a wall dried blood so dark and brown the night will have you either way and the moon will look on in melancholy