Oh,
nemesis of darkness.
Where are you
during my fights with emptiness?
The switch is on.
The bulb is bright,
but it can’t seem to bring me
peace at night.
I can stare into the light,
for my whole feeble existence,
and never feel the warmth
that comes with knowing
that life can, in fact, be bright.
What if I swallow the bulb?
Will the shards of glass
make me whole?
The cuts on my guts,
will they help cleanse my soul?
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