3 am

Its 3 am, and I’m thinking about the end,
Not mine but yours, the peaceful non-existence
You say you adore so much, you unplug your phone,
House and hand just so I can’t get in touch with the
Reasonable side of your mind, it’s torture and torment
One of a kind I never thought I would witness in this life,
And what I am supposed to do? Tell the world what you said,
That you were looking forwards to going to bed and never
Getting up again? How can I shout the secrets into the unknown
If I’m not really sure if this is a cry for help or a practical joke

Well it turns out the joke was on me and every time
I heard my heart beat I was sure I was wrong and that
Tomorrow would ring with the sound of funeral bells and that
I would be responsible for what would come next and the flocks
Of school children coming to my nest offering their condolences
To the person they never really met, cared to meet, see we were
On the outside, on the side streets, the stalls in the carnivals, an
Attraction in themselves just never enough to pull in the big crowds
We were not attention seekers like the rest of them in this town, at least
That’s what I thought until 8 am rolled around

And you rolled around with a smile on your face and an innocent
“hey” and I could tell this was just the next play, I was a pawn in your
Game and I allowed myself to be moved too far to the edge of the board
And you were swarmed, just as you wanted, by the popular and the latest
Fads, and I balanced precariously, both terrified and mad, I felt trapped
Inside this twisted claim, while you easily started your way to fame and
All I could think of was how I wanted to paint these walls with your lies and
Proclaim to the human race how you were a spy, a demon inside of a human suit
Just looking for a way to win instead of lose

And I think about 3 am, the paralyzing tick of the clock on the wall
My body locked and how I crawled through the excruciating hours of
It all, the space I stayed illuminated by a light because the dark could do
Nothing but worsen this plight, and it felt like my heart was thrown in
A blender, mashed and beaten and served up tender, on a silver platter
For you to laugh at, in disgust of all that was left of it, and you took your
Sword and gouged out my trust and when I demanded an answer your
Face turned to rust and in a steel robot voice you said good riddance,
Good bye, now get out of my life,

Now 3 am is my favourite time.

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