The Darkness

Darkness is comforting.

It creeps up on you, like mold taking over a tree in the woods.

It holds your head against your pillow and smothers you with soft whispers of the despair and banality of the light.

It digs into your soul with gentle yet violent strokes: maybe waking up today was the mistake.

It clouds your vision like the drop of blood in serene waters, imperceptible at first.

Melancholy drips its sweet nectar into your very essence.

It's the cold, grasping embrace that paws at you with the sweet whispers of nothingness when existence becomes an unbearable state of being.

Many people abhor the darkness, struggling to thaw its eternal grip on the essence of mortality.

I welcome it as an old friend, the sole companion the void of life has bestowed upon me.