The Hour of Midnight

Now upon the hour of midnight
The darkness crept upon the loneliness so upright,
The dreams are dark and defiant
Their hidden means so transparent.
The silence drifts along the corridor
The creaks echo on the squeaky floor.
Darkness and distain,
The dreariness seeps through again.
Long are the hours of turmoil,
Long are the hours as the memories uncoil.
Strangled flowers, stopped in mid growth;
Clear are the memories I’ve come to loathe.