There the beauty of midnight skies lie Do it all at once, I reach for something so high We just want to be loved, to be appreciated So we do things to get attention—we are deprecated I was promised the world back when I was starting I dreamed of heights because they're all so stunning I thought I could do it, anymore like them So I did, hoping for things all solemn So I brush my fingers on success and mayhem Hoping that times change and I would've gotten The highest praise, I wish the world did not condemn My wishes of highest usually start at 3 AM
How silly must the world see me A useless little lamb in the pasture of misery Trying its best to get out of predestined agony Did it succeed? No, success is all a fantasy There is nothing new, nothing revolutionary Yet they are all ahead while I lag with my story Too fast, they all pretend to be Too slow, it seems like I'm doing it too slowly Is it a race, I have learned it to be so Did someone win? Perhaps, I should let it go Because I can't bear to get pounded again and again So maybe I should stop dreaming at 3 AM
So now I sit here, stroking my wounded heart Words ticking slowly, souls being ripped apart I find that I did everything Sold my soul to forces that be for a thing What I wanted most, was something to remind my core I walk through the battlefield just to fight a sore I endure restless nights, stared up at countless stars Just so I know how to heal wounds and lick my scars Treasures all but hidden under sheets Dealer of men, how have you formed your lips? Because I have spent endless nights, lost and forgotten Perhaps, I should stop thinking of things at 3 AM
The world works in ways unseen But somehow, its favor on me has never been I could have wavered I could have tried But here I am, writing love songs while I cried About broken vows and hopes torn About new ideas and new worlds born I am done hoping, I hope no longer The world knows that nothing lasts forever The sun shines, and the stars fade altogether I should stop hoping that tomorrow will be better Of all the things that should end up thrown and forsaken Perhaps, I should stop trying to be someone at 3 AM
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A personal poem.
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