Panic in the Dark

A second darkness falls with the night,
Slipping behind my eyes from the afternoon shadows.
A thick, greasy film that stinks of fear and sorrow,
An unwelcome parasite wearing the face of sickness.
Though its symptoms are familiar,
By night they become monstrous.
It comes when I am alone,
Painting fearful images upon the walls of my mind.
No matter how I try to cope,
The torment continues.
It enters my sleep,
Pouring thick black nightmares into my dreams.
Voices tell me I am dying,
Whispering sweetly into my ear.
A pain here.
A cough there.
Each another claw in its icy grip.
The only things that weaken it
Are company,
Distraction,
Or morning.
Tomorrow it will regroup
And return with renewed hunger.
My mind cannot rest.
The darkness feeds upon fear.
I know countless others welcome this stranger nightly,
Yet that knowledge offers little comfort
When I lie awake in its grasp.
It pokes,
Prods,
And toys with my emotions.
Morning light finally banishes the beast,
Forcing it to retreat.
Until tomorrow night,
When we battle once more
For control of me.