Night

A murderous agent in disguise,

A magician with immoral secrets,

A man with sleepy eyes and sharp features,

A neighbor with a yearning but malevolent desire,

A “friend” with a coarse skin, chapped lips, and dark, oiled hair,

Night hovers over men at night, rubbing his hands before his attack.

 

Night harbors malicious aspirations, ominously,

Night, like a mastermind criminal, devises methods of manipulation,

Night, when men rest, commences his reign of terror.

Who knows what Night does in his hours?

Maybe Night enters our dreams and corrupts them,

Maybe Night, lonely, wanders aimlessly in an endless, but worldly path …

For a companion.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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