A day mundanely flips away, bringing it to the night,
Which seems to darken in the very similar way.
Mind-numbing toil, the newness slackens off,
Finding staleness, tugging it away.

The twilight pulls it out of the warmth
The cold darkness descends,
And with skilled silent strokes,
Sketches a mix of cobwebs and shadows,
Hanging all over the place,
A bizarre picture of the discarded day.

Even the most-distant memories,
The night gruesomely brings.
Those hollow deserted aisles,
Groves of grotesque twisted trees,
Far aloft, their arms wave away.

I, till now, so strangely, at ease,
With a seizure, step into the darkness.
The nightmare will soon return,
The day culminating into emptiness,
Wasting all its wishes, all its hopes,
Squandering it away.

But today the night is different.
In these moments of clamour and dread,
I find a sudden silence,
I find a sudden solace.

I suddenly realize I am not alone.
I find many other hearts passing out.
Many others stumble their heads against the wall.
When they reach the end,
When they close their day.