If you want to see my walls
Come down,
Do not bring any heavy equipment nor any
Coaxing murmurs

I won't trust you and I won't even try
To throw you,
My pessimism is much deeper than your
Good intentions

Because everyone "means well", I have to believe that,
But if I call your bluff,
You'll just simply say that's not what
You meant

You only needed me, and now
I'm used,
With a memory of the light you brought
But no nostalgia

No, if you want me to confess my darkest
Secrets,
You won't find me in photosynthetic
Yellow meadows

I'll be hiding in plain sight,
Cloaked under starry skies, where the
Cold air makes me feel most
Alive

So why do you still bring a flashlight
To find me,
Instead of respecting my chronic
Nyctophilia?