Midnight

Warm lights emitting from lamp posts on a gentle night. At that time, there were none to do. Walking was out of the question, and crying was out of the question too. So, I went out of my way to sit and stare at the moon. When its sight bored me out of my mind, I went to look over the bazillion of stars that surround it. I hate the word midnight. Because it means that we are close to the end of the night. Can it be a little longer? The great danger of the night is nothing compared to its itsy-bitsy and delicate features. A vague footsteps accompanied the silence from the empty street. Thunder creeping its way over the yonder. There I was, wondering and pondering. I wondered at the sight. I pondered at the night. I am such a romantic, aren’t I? How can a man possibly go out of his way to look at the sky and then come out with false perceptions? How are we to deceive ourselves with these foul acts? Do we live upon it? Where does it stand on the moral compass? What then, do we have to make of this phenomenon called the midnight?