Night

These quiet hours might just be the worst;
When night-time threatens to destroy my mind.
The gains I made in day are all reversed
And where the light of happiness once shined
There's only introspection and despair.
On better days, I might find reason there,
Or logic, or good sense, but neither thrives
In darkness, and the light that flickers on
To try to push away the dark contrives
Only to make me wish the night were gone
But not to make it go, and so brings out
The sadness and the angst which threaten
And plant the seeds of anger and self-doubt;
But with the day, I think more happily.