Driving along desolate country roads in the middle of the night brings with it a rare sense of peace.

“Don’t you know,

 the Dark has room for everything,

And then some more”

When hope is gone it leaves in its place a hole filled with incessant whispers.

And these whispers, they tell of things that you really do not want to hear.

And though this peace to which I am referring does not come with any sense of hope, it is at least something that makes the whispers stop.

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