4 am

the single streetlight, blinking

like my drowsy eyes in an attempt

to regain my deep slumber,

no one’s awake at 4 am

the few early birds,

most waking to hear

the start of a new workday,

but some, like me,

waking to hear the silence.

 

this is the framework of my dreams,

where they grow and prosper

and sink into

the deepest depths of my mind,

but still

no one’s awake at 4 am

feeling something

but nothing, not

a rush of emotions but

a lack of any

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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