The Darkest Hour

In the darkest hour of night, glaring at the moon, I stood up cold and tired, in my small and simple room. The leaves were flying on the whistling wind, tormenting birds, while I just grinned. Out in the distance, a pair of lights. A car approached and lit the night. I watched it closely as it came this way, and parked beside the moon lit bay. As flashlights aimed at my front door, I felt a fear not felt before. Two men were walking towards the house, I remained still, quiet as a mouse. And then the knock on my front door, I felt the fear grow even more. Should I go answer or should I stay, and hope and pray, they go away. The knock grew louder and then a voice, “we know you’re there, you have no choice”. I swung the door open so slight, and there they stood, two men in white. Of course I knew why they were here, Too tired to run, too tired to fight. I hung my head in quiet despair, as I was taken in the night. The halls were dark, my room was bright, In this asylum near the sea. The tall guard spoke and said good night, he locked the door and took the key. The memories stamped inside my brain, bring out my tears, my fears, my pain. Remembering childhood friends I made, who’s faces now begin to fade. Now as I long to go to sleep, and hope to dream of days gone by. I still remember, remember well, the days of laughter, that fail to die.