In the quiet of the midnight hour,
When shadows stretch and darkness devours,
Whispers of doubt begin to rise,
Like ghosts unseen by weary eyes.

Anxiety’s grip, so cold and tight,
Turns day to dusk, and noon to night.
A racing heart, a restless mind,
In chains of fear, no peace to find.

Depression lurks in silent gloom,
A heavy fog, a timeless tomb.
It steals the light, it dims the day,
And leaves the soul in disarray.

But in the darkness, hope may bloom,
A flicker faint, a light assumed.
Through every tear and silent cry,
A path to dawn, a brighter sky.