It's 3 am in the morning,
And a girl like me should be sleeping.
But why am I staring at the ceiling,
While thinking of the wounds that are cutting?

It's 3 am in the morning,
And a daughter like me should be resting.
But why am I staring at the ceiling,
While asking myself if all I had to do was babysitting?

It's 3 am in the morning,
And a student like me should be studying.
But why am I staring at the ceiling,
While seeing the madness in schooling?

It's 3 am in the morning,
And a wife like me should be in the middle of love making.
But why am I staring at the ceiling,
While tasting lust in everything that he's doing?

It's 3 am in the morning,
And all the feelings kept coming.
Lips are being pursed into thin linings,
Suppressing all the sobs that kept screaming.

The dawn starts to reign.
And here she was, emplaced in vain.
She asked, "How can you sleep,
Without thinking of the cut that's so deep?"

Every single night,
Memories grip her neck so tight.
And here comes her mind,
Starting to whisper some things that aren't kind.

Tired eyes are still arguing,
With Mr. Brain who wants to keep going
In bringing up the past
On this little girl who wanted to sleep fast.

"Oh, my precious Mr. Sleepy,
When will you come unto me?
Embrace me in your loving arms,
And keep away the darkness that swarms."

I still remember that one summer afternoon.
I saw you while I was sitting with my worn out desk,
Drawing a new cartoon,
And aiming for a better picturesque.

Freckles were visible upon your cheek,
But your eyebrows weren’t that on fleek.
Maybe it’s because of the cut you have there,
From a stout man in front of you, bearing a death glare.

In one blissful moment, my trash bin went flying,
As he was about to punch you again.
He then took a step back, looking like an ugly duckling!
You saw me through my window and gave me a smile that’s so inane.

It was never okay when I had too many hideous drafts,
Drafts that were always behind my beautiful crafts.
But then, I knew that you needed them as your defense.
And so I had them, even if they would cost ten thousand cents

My parents would always scold me,
For I was the very reason why our front gate was always messy.
But I didn’t care enough
As long as you stay safe from that dickheaded buff.

Then came a time when you didn’t show up.
I was badly ready for my defense gaming,
That I lay my head on my desk, playing Mom Jeans’ Death Cup,
As the sun’s power is already taming.

Days passed, crumpled drafts were already overflowing.
Still, I am waiting for you, my darling.
I am running out of paper.
But still, my hope will not waver.

When I cannot take it anymore, I went outside.
I was dancing through the streets like a happy bride,
And then I stepped on a crumpled piece of newspaper.
“A 17-YEAR OLD BOY WAS KILLED WITH A DOUGH SCRAPER”

That day when you fell into my arms so suddenly,
While running around the little old tree,
I saw my future in those big, beautiful eyes,
Telling me that I shall never speak your goodbyes.

We were never alone when we eat our favorite huckleberry pie,
When we pinch our noses just to drink the juice that smells like pine.
The little old tree stood just right there.
Witnessing the love other people couldn't bear.

Then came a time when the little old tree had shred its last breath,
And my heart felt an excruciating death.
The tree sacrificed its life for you.
Because I made your wish come true.

I still remember that night,
When the stars had shined so bright.
You asked me for something that made my heart cry.
You said, "Cut the tree. Cut the tree and entomb me there when I die."
And so I did.