The Allure of Darkness

My arrival is not loud; it has never had to be.
Always patient, waiting until exhaustion forces you to listen.
I am the reality that stays after all your hope fades to properly anchor you to the ground.
Directing your thoughts like a mean authority figure, convince yourself a square is round.
I don’t invite myself, though; I wait for your every doubtful question. Now you’ll listen.
I am the allure of darkness; the task is resisting me.

I speak in whispers because I am certain.
Time works for my benefit; eventually, certainly, you will be entertained.
With me, time slows down, minutes feel like entire days, luring you with the illusion of rest.
I counter optimism with proof, patterns, doubt, and irrefutable facts; you do the rest.
My twisted facts and half-truths will prove you wrong till you concur with me.
I am the allure of darkness; your own desire will draw you to me.

I am a teacher of sorts; I show you the appeal in doing nothing.
Guiding you to see kindness as a task, social withdrawal is imminent.
Showing you how undeserving of love you are, you feel you have to earn back the right to it.
I am also a loan shark, charging you 100% interest for every smile that graces your face.
I am a potter, reconstructing your being so you are smaller, just to be efficient.
I am the allure of darkness; I thrive where you feel out of options and all you have is me.

I don’t physically hurt; I am simply a memory curator.
I have your memories organized and color-coded; failures shine the brightest.
Professionalism is my pride, always ensuring you make the wrong conclusion.
Joy, love, and pleasant memories decay and disappear, stored with other junk files.
Comparison becomes your confidant; with a smile, I watch you disappear in my lies.
I am the allure of darkness, depression. An anchor made of glass.

Fatigue is my mode of operation; it always seems like you can do it later.
I am concise, consistent, and persuasive; don’t brand me as cruel.
Destroying you is never the endgame; my preference is that you choose me and stay.
Be still, be deceptive, be doubtful, lose yourself, resonate, and choose to stay.
Sleep becomes disappointing, showers invoke tears, and mornings renew the exhaustion.
I am the allure of darkness; getting to me is always easier than finding your way out.

I am the epitome of darkness; my job is to destroy through desire.
I know your strength, so I shrink your presence, but you see humility and reserve.
You start fantasizing about disappearing when I start losing my grasp of you.
Rooms seem lively and peaceful in your absence; this I whisper so it appears to be all you.
I explain your shrinkage as being a good person and merciful to those that care about you.
I am an anchor made of glass; breaking me is easy. My strength is you believing me.

I don’t always come accompanied by tears; I prefer the company of the appeal of solitude.
I am not always explainable; the only person that understands what is happening is you.
I remind you to take the back seat and that this is no place for your winner attitude.
Self-belief is what I eradicate first; you seek out my opinion on things to be sure.
I eat you up from the inside, in utter silence; others just think you need to recharge.
I am the allure of darkness; in this realm of depression I am in charge.

I am the allure of darkness, a shape-shifter that embodies your voice.
You can never tell I am around; is it your overthinking or intuition? I sound like those two.
Convince me we are part and parcel; if not, how do I know your secrets and desires, friend?
You wish for it to end, but I have your willpower and access to your thoughts.
I am careful; I care for you. That is why I suggest and never insist, honey; there’s no end.
I am an anchor made of glass; it is you that chooses to stay; you must love my voice.