It is now that I realize.
It’s not painful.
Or strange.
Or awkward.
Instead it’s peaceful.
The fake smile.
The laugh.
It’s memorable.
But not saddening.

Good night.

The silent are stationary.
The fragility, shaking.
Lonely is the owl.
Sole creature in the environment.
Peaceful appearances match hush-hush rooms.
Each on their back, carrying their hopes of tomorrow.
Laying in wait, he prepares himself.
Readying the strike.
The blow, fatal.
Moments pass
Thoughts wander.
Wind dampens the back.
Keeping spirit at an all time low.
The flavors of dark change.
Favoring the lacking.
Spirit is at an all time low,
tonight.

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