The Forest at Midnight

Long after dusk, 
in our twilight forest 
there lurk shadows,
And sometimes, 
when the moon is cast out, 
I succumb to them. 

Some nights I curl up with the willows,
whispering sweet nothings to the crows, 
or weeping morning dew on the lilies. 
On others I am screaming to the stars,
begging the Sun to rise back up from beyond the treetops.

But even when dawn breaks the horizon,
I still miss Midnight.
For the shadows have found their solace within me when the Sun comes out to play. 
And sometimes,
Sometimes I succumb to them. 

BIATA, ‘the forest at midnight can be an awfully dark place’

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