There’s no time like one in the morning
To be filled with regret, grief and mourning —
To look back at your loves and losses,
The friends you lost, your crappy bosses,
And every unsaid word,
And insult inferred.
There’s no time like 2 AM,
When hopes and dreams come to an end,
And you come to realize
You’re destined to suffer endless goodbyes.
The third hour is long,
As household ghosts sing their song
To remind you who you truly are:
An ugly person, broken and marred —
Someone no one loves,
Not even you,
Always shoved,
And always blue.
Maybe if you’re lucky,
You’ll fall asleep tonight,
And dream of happy puppies,
And every other small delight.
But chances are you’ll stay ’til four,
Listening for sounds outside your door,
Waiting for fights to come,
Even though you know it’s dumb.
Trying to remember to sleep while you can.
Trying to remember flames don’t need a fan.
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