Shamed

The evils of the night posses my mind and
leave behind a fright when
dawn comes washing over me,
so unexpectedly.

The powers of the night divide into
strong thoughts and words and
shame like falling glass onto
a cloth, and nothing breaks it's
fall except the air.

Temptations of the night
collide and break inside of every
living atom of my being, and
dissipate like broken, melting
ice.

The fleeting of the night
reminds me of every vice that
night could shape me to commit
as though its only view
is my command.

The falling of the night
to dawn is an extention of
the chains that deem me wrong,
but not escape from all
the chains night pulls along,
with me.