4:13 A.M.


A Soul’s tattered threads
A Heart’s gearless clocks
Happens crying in a thousand beds
Tears as wingless flocks

My eyes peer only at dark
As I lay here awake
Desperation’s evil glaring shark
My Soul it doth take

The grip of fear
The gaze of hate
It looms quite near
And puppeteers my fate

It lays in my arms
Only in my head
The anguish of harms
And I feel dead

I speak now
Or forever hold my peace
The painful truth how
My Soul doth cease


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