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The mid-of-night's a splendid thing.  This is when the spirits sing.
Yet the night contains more than ghosts, it evokes what we fear most.
Over both feet you stumble when you hear a distant mumble.

You find yourself jumping at shadows, forgetting all your present woes & hating those who you suppose ignore your fear as it grows.
The air is so thick you begin to choke & on your back you feel a poke.
Your thoughts explore your realms of logic, yet none of your conclusions stick.

Suddenly you're feeling sick and the air seems more than thick.  It now takes on somewhat of a metallic taste and you begin to move with haste.

Will you make it through this night?  Do you have the drive and fight?
Then from above you see a light and you know all will be right.

There is one thing you cannot fight; what about tomorrow night?

©2004 All rights reserved. This poem may not be used or duplicated in part or whole wihtout the express consent of Jak'ki "Parris" Johnson.

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