Some nights, when I'm alone, my emotions come out to play and keep me company. They act on stage for my inner demons, the directors of the play, whose whispers can be heard from miles away. They pull me in to watch with them. Sometimes they sing for us through fireworks of light.. But it's always set in an atmosphere of thick sorrow on the bleakest of nights.
They harden my lips into a perpetual smile, steal my tears of misery and fine-tune my music box, until my screams are directed to amplify internally. Leaving me with still illusions of never dying candles in the vacant room of my heart where I'm tethered, which now feels like home.
It is on these nights, I wish I was not alone.