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As they move among us during the daylight hours, It is hard to distinguish between, The people of the day, and the ones of the night. You have to look close, look inside, Because the signs are not obvious. You have to look at there demeanor, There eyes echo the shadows of late nights, There clothing will usually give a clue. And when they speak, then you can hear it, The whisper of another life, One of adrenaline, of neon lights, Of late nights, and sneaking into, And out of many places. And then night comes, and the world changes, A different population appears on the streets, Finding pleasure in the night and it's distractions, Or perhaps going about there business, Slinking in the quiet shadows, Going where they dare not go by day. And if you happen to glance out the window, Perhaps as you set down your book, And prepare to turn out the light, You would not see them, because they have become, Just more shadows in the night. |