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,