...

Cold

... It's dark. Cold. The night has, at last, come from 

a day of waiting, a day of debating, my desire

of stating my feelings is creating anxiety... how do

I maintain propriety when I would prefer to go

insane...

... It's dark. Cold. They say, "Be brave! Be bold!

You can do it!" However, I'm not sold and yes, my

pessimism can get old but bad things could unfold

if I told you the secrets I hold.

What would be said if I could escape a situation

of rue? It's in my head -- not what I would 

say, but what I would do... for what can

mere words prove?

... It's dark. Cold. It's the end of the day and the

clock has ticked another twenty-four hours

of my life away, leaving me with such disdain...

 Silence will remain, I'll have

nothing to say. Apathy has killed my

will and now devours my way...