I hide my sins,
Confessions told in the darkest of night.
Silent tears slide down my face,
Wallowing in the lonely hour.
Menacing is the second hand of the clock,
Ticking, telling of the coming dawn.
I must push down the sadness,
Replace it with a mask of serenity.
Worn and faded with use,
A new crack has started.
The facade will slip,
And when it does . . .
All will come crashing down.
YOU ARE READING
Midnight
PoetryThis poem was written very late at night, and conveys feelings which might be a little too dark for some to read.
