Oh, god I love a good great stormy sky.

It calls to me in ways that sunny

days just never could. The good that should

be there in every heart was not in mine

right from the start. I am made that way.

I love the dark more than the light, the night

more than the day. Good people just

unsettle me, regretfully, though thankfully

they are so rare. I don’t care. There

is no place to hide

the dark in me,

the side that people see, though I

have tried. Besides, there is no point.

I am what I am, and you are you. All

we can do is be true to us, to what we are,

light, or dark. And sometimes, to my own

surprise, I rise to it, my darkness,

I prize it.

For who in all this world would crave

to be not dark, not light,

but grey?

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