Nights Like This
Another heavy night is upon me.
Another one sent to take your place,
To make me cold,
To make me wait,
To make me remember
That I was not,
And cannot be
Insane enough to stay.
Sleep, sleep, O city! Though within the circuit of your walls there be no habitation free from sin, and all its nameless misery; the aching heart, the aching head, grief for the living and the dead, and foul corruption of the time, disease, distress, and want, and woe, and crimes, and passions that may grow...
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You'll never get to read this. But I hope you've made peace with the fact you've abandoned people who unselfishly called you Friend.
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