What is so enticing about darkness?
Why do we run into the shadows?
Are we swept off our feet by the melancholy?
Or do we crave the still and silent misery?
Is it true, with our hearts, the pain ends?
Or is there a magic spell to stop our sorrows?
Will we get out of the dungeon so gloomy?
Or will we learn to breathe in the despondency?
Have we all lost our minds to the excellent blackout?
Or are we thinking so much that we lost our way out?
Did the monster hold us captive or did we fall into a trap?
Will someone come to our rescue or will we mate with anguish itself?
What is it so charming about someone’s absence?
Why do we fall in love with the emptiness when they go?
Why don’t we let anyone into our quiet homes?
Why do we all sob alone?