The Sleepless Nights- Betrayed Love

It is a lie. All a lie. The darkest hour always comes in the night. Always. The hours of uncertainty, of fear, of crushed hope, of tear. The hours of hardship and sadness, the hours of lost love and madness. The hours no man dares to wake, those hours, these are the hours in which I spake. The man who dwells in these hours has but negativity in his mind, no peace can he find. He shifts to in fro, tosses and turns shakes the covers and is restless below. He cannot see, he cannot speak, he cannot think, he cannot sleep. He is lost within himself. Within himself he is filled with what he fears the most. He is filled with fear itself. Fear of the unknown, fear of lost opportunity, fear of lost love. He knows not but how to fear in the night, he knows not but of his heart filled; jealousy, anger, scorn, and hopes unfulfilled. He hasn't a moment throughout the day, not until that is he lay at night. He may pray with all his might, attempt to scribble his thoughts by the dimming bedside light. But this brings him nothing, no hope, to tranquility, no delight. His heart yearns for that unseen, that small little glimpse of he on who his heart is keen. It is she who keeps in this state of unrest, she who placed on his heart duress. He just wishes to hold her so, but she doesn't longer love him; No.

No, no, no, no! What a vile word is that of no! One without cause, one without reason, a no for no's sake, a no for nothing for him to know! Just a No because a No is a No. No! He willn't accept that No as an end, he willn't see it, his resolve will not bend. For she will not be sharing these hours, not near, not far, not in his arms or in her heart. It is but the lowly who cannot grasp sleep. He is who is to suffer the enduring pain of No's harvest to reap.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Wrote this one after another long night, a few weeks ago, around 4am.

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The Sleepless Nights- Anxiety

It is in the late hours of a sleepless night.
At first the night was sleepless due to an over-abundance of this yearned for sleep from just last night. It is not over-abundance which has kept me from my desire to rest this hour. That over-abundance simply set the start of a journey, a journey deep into my mind. I have found that in the late hours of night a man finds his soul, or lack there of. It is only in these tired hours he can find who he really is, what he believes, what he wishes he believed, and what he loses faith in. In these hours he loses himself in thought, more often worry than otherwise. Worry, so it seems is the death of man. It is the eighth deadly sin. Worry is what holds mankind back, its what harnesses the reigns of life. A man can only be measured by his accomplishments, but what accomplishments can be found if blocked by impossibility? Man finds late at night his largest worries. Worries he didn't know or chose not to think of in the day, they become inescapable at night. They choke the sleep from the dreamer who dreams of but to dream. This worry will seize you without warning. It cannot be dispelled but by the greatest of efforts. Worry and faith aren't all found in these hours though, their near cousin is as well; Strength. Strength is found. It may be found to combat worry, it may be found because of faith, but strength is what will lull the restless to sleep. Strength in oneself is a beautiful thing. But as so it seems, most men's strength leaves them in their time of most need. Strength of the average man seems to all too easily evaporate with the first rays of morning. No matter what feelings or thoughts are aroused or provoked, in the morning we are all the man we laid down as, none the wiser until the next moments of restless fit.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Wrote this one the night before a very difficult day in which I would have to face one of my greatest fears. Wrote it around 3:30 am