The Illusion Of Safety

The illusion of safety, in my apartment, late at night.
Sitting cross legged in bed, without sleep, but calm.
The stars are not here, only a slit wink of a moon.
I think here, my demons cannot come, nor tormentors.
I think here, my soul can relax and uncoil, finally rest.
 Angel time, in the dark of night, this is when they come.
The quiet of the dark hours, when you cannot hide dissonance.
When your thoughts wander and come pure and holy and lost.
I sit in my bed, look out the window, at sickly golden light.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, hear a whisper in my ear.
 Their is a weight in my heart I must carry, but it is the weight of heaven.
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