it two in the morning and you can't sleep but it's not like you're trying, the old glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling lost their glow just like you did and you can't help but wonder when the person in the mirror will be recognizable to you again, because that person in there wasn't you, isn't you, couldn't be you because you don't recall looking so broken, feeling so tired and sad. that couldn't be you. your phone screen was cracked like the sidewalk in your neighborhood and the boy across the street was sinfully beautiful and his bedroom had seen some sinful things that you had taken a part of and the whole ordeal was messy and it may be his child, there is no way of knowing. and so it's two in the morning and your life is as dull as those stars and as cracked as that sidewalk.
