Long comes the night,
without warning or remorse,
loneliness its trusted guide,
pulling me off course.
A hand reaches out
how long will it stay?
If I speak of my sorrow,
will it drift away?
Long comes the night,
rivers of pain,
flooding my soul,
a relentless reign.
Silence takes hold,
deep and vast.
Reaching feels futile,
stillness will last.