Pull the shades,
to hold the night.
Hide away from the first sharp ray,
of shimmering light.

Emptiness can cause happiness to shrink.
A soured soul imersed in thick,
black india ink.
From this blackened soul,
I sprang a leak.
Out poured a sullen poem,
that in the sun,
would certainly swell and stink.

But to this ravaged verse,
I toast and drink.