The night does not belong to those in love.
It belongs to those who dared to fall in love and found that there was no-one there to catch them.
The night does not belong to the dreamers.
It belongs to those who have nightmares waiting for them long after they are awake.
The night does not belong to the contented.
It belongs to those troubled souls who carry the burdens of this world on their backs.
The night belongs to the haunted.
It belongs to the lonely.
It belongs to those too busy fighting to even think about rest.
You can keep your sunshine.
Me and mine come alive in the night.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 9:07 AM UTC
The night does not belong to those in love.
It belongs to those who dared to fall in love and found that there was no-one there to catch them.
The night does not belong to the dreamers.
It belongs to those who have nightmares waiting for them long after they are awake.
The night does not belong to the contented.
It belongs to those troubled souls who carry the burdens of this world on their backs.
The night belongs to the haunted.
It belongs to the lonely.
It belongs to those too busy fighting to even think about rest.
You can keep your sunshine.
Me and mine come alive in the night.
Request permission to use this poem