The flood of night

On our changing emotions in the wee hours

A wall we have for hours in the day

So light of reason may hold fast the din,

But waning hours make for walls decay;

Past reason, twilights rising tides begin.

Born on the flood of night reside our hearts,

Their darkener moods intent to drown the head;

Alone to fester, transformation starts

As though a new being reigns within our stead.

Which being am I, born out of day or night?

For moon’s emotions surely see me lost,

Yet parched will reason leave me in the light,

This certain choice will hold uncertain cost

So long as conflict preys upon my soul

The hours, both dark and light will take their toll.

Reviews

I've got to say, I've been reading through your writing and I'm quite fascinated by it all. You've got quite a way with words. Okay, enough with the flattery, and on to the review. I suck at reviews, by the way, but I'll make a dastardly attempt, futile stab at this:

Brilliant rhyme scheme, I'm wondering if it comes naturally for you or if you have to sit and take the time to make it all rhyme well. Doesn't seem forced in the slightest, so that's good.
Good reflection on our personality changes, or just different sides of us as the morning hours come upon us, as the day hours slowly slip by, and then finally as the night hours creep up. I personally find the night to be my solitude, I can be who I want to be.

[1809 Black Plague Decem..]

Love the depiction, --mishel