Dawn
I hate it when the sun starts coming up
And all my precious night is shutting down,
Euphoric, phantom-filled, with hardihood.
The daylight makes a coward of my heart,
Though others have done worse than I have done
And still found love. But Iíve found love again.
Although there have been periods of bleak,
I somehow always found another love.
Although my unrelenting soul did not
Deserve it, nonetheless I always did.
But I am only brave when it is dark.
A child of darkness! That is what I am!
Before the dawn Iím fearless and I thrive.
I flex my psyche and I stand alone.
But with the dawn I wither and I fade.
All things I thought and said, I think
Are arrogant and wrong. I am effete.
I love the night. It is my sanctuary.
I worship night, the temple of my soul.
I hate the dawn. It is my anti-Christ,
And brings to me the horror of my heart,
The unraptured, peerless shame of being me.
Night is sacred. Night is sacrosanct.
Dawn is over. Dawn is being dead,
And delivers me into the death of sleep.

Joseph Hart