It's not unusual for all of us to have a darker side to ourselves. It was not I who wrote this poem, but my darker side -- I call her Dusk. Dusk Speaks You will not win a heart like mine That holds itself as true and straight Nor could our spirits intertwine I waste no passion on love's debate Don't make it rise to only hate You cannot own a single strand Of fibres cloaking "her" from sight Easier to count the grains of sand On the shore beneath a moonless night Don't ever expect to win this fight You could not make a slave of one Who chooses darkness for a friend And walks beneath no warm, bright sun Upon this knowledge I depend I know my start, my middle, my end Don't waste a single second more On thoughts of taming my wilder side That which appears as strange allure Is nothing deliberate I provide Persistence now could only divide You make one more outrageous claim Which causes me now to use the pen You think to rob me of my name And wonder why I despise all men Who steal from us again and again Well, heed my warning; mark it read As long as I am needed by she Who chooses me to walk in her stead When she is wounded emotionally Then Dusk is who her guardian be
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