1 am
I walk out the door just to smell the air,
Tainted with the illusion of deliverance.
And can't help but scream my enigmas
Into the dark, solitary abyss of the world.
But it's 1 am, and no one's listening.

1 am
I bite my arm, sharp enamel on flesh.
A high-pitched cry emerges on impact.
Not mine, but from somewhere so far
That I can't understand its message.
But it's 1 am, and no one's calling

1 am
I sit and ponder my escape from here,
Tangled in a world of rules and lines.
Lies so twisted it's hard not to trip.
It's all in my imagination, anyhow.
But it's 1 am, and no one's wondering.

1 am
There's nowhere to run, where I am.
I'm standing between reality and thought.
Words of the long-forgotten romantics
Fill me with hope - but hey, they're dead.

Maybe I am, too.

Now it's 2 am. I'm sleeping.