A long, unsleeping night,
a day that never sees its dawn,
a light that never reaches its destination —
just shades of a darker, all-too-real life.
He is not so distant from you,
yet a bridge still stands between you;
he is not afraid of fate or fortune —
but why is he so different now?
His questions are a paranoid memory,
needing a listener to be shared;
control is not all that he needs.
Is he searching for the unsaid question?
Rise above all the bargaining and melancholy —
darkness is all he loves now.
You give him sorrow; he confronts it.
At least it’s hate she is still giving him.
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