The Night Can Be Sweet

The angel will not wipe away our tears.
The saviour is pious with our cold fears.
The devil will listen, and fight, for a price.
The god, is high on prayer, tossing loaded dice.

 The night can be so sweet, when you’re alone.
The wind hushed and reverent of a pagan tone.
The peace of the wind, the soft envoloping of spring,
gives us joy, denied by ones who kiss a holy ring.

 The holy ones tell us to bow and be repaired.
Their hearts dead, their morality utterly impaired.
They kill and curse and cut us out, except to be maimed.
They hate the wild and free; we’re only animals to be tamed.

The stars above, quiet and distant, things that never spoke.
Inorganic light posts, sailing ships, in on the cruel joke.
We, the unwanted, hold tight to each other, to the dark.
We, the untamed, are the last true stars in the righteous dark.