It’s either very late
Or very early,
Depending on whether you’ve been asleep.

And I’ve never been one to write love poetry,
But I can’t get this off my mind,
I need to write to keep myself sane,
But I can’t write fast enough.

Your eyes are heavy on every word.
And I repeat the questions I have in my mind over and over.
Is it natural to feel this down over nothing,
Is it natural to constantly lie to yourself
Trying to disprove how you’re feeling, trying not to grow tired of your own heart.