the morose writer

The smile faded as the light fades from the sky:                                                         &nbsp

little demons dance around
in hours where no sun is found;
insomniacs called to unite
as responsibility returns to bite.
while freer souls are seen in play
the peers must rue the coming day.
a punishment enforced, a daily chore

I wanted to produce something visible
that filled the beholder
With pride and awe:
and when they looked and
saw it, joyous tears would flow forth
And drown all doubt. To
My great horror, it caused