not really a poem; more like just my early morning thoughts.
tw// implications of depression and insomia
-•☆•-
i'm having a 4am moment.
you know, where you can see the faint orange-brown glow of the streetlight outside your window, the silhouette of tree branches fluttering against it, a steamy rain leisurely tapping the roof overhead.
the early bird chirps merrily in the distance, a mellow sound compared to the thoughts behind your drooping, sleep-deprived eyes.
the hour beforehand brimming with nothing but questions, triggered by mystifying clouds surrounding the ceiling fan above your skull.
it's a raw 60 minutes, suspended amid the shadows of night and the break of the sunrise; a state stuck between asleep and awake.
4am is tranquility. a fragile piece of time where the slightest clamor would damage it.
it cups you gently in its velvet hands, hoisting you into another realm. one where nothing can touch you but you.
but you can be deadly when left to yourself.
im stranded in a 4am moment.
and i want out.
