11pm is for those who can't sleep,
bloods filled with rush;
because of the sweet texts they just can't wait to read.

1am is for the poets who just can't stop,
can't stop the thoughts entering --
entering their mind one by one.

And 2am is for the broken.
The ones who can't stop thinking,
Thinking of what might've been,
What could've been.

When all else fails would you run back to your past?
If I make a mistake would you consider it over just like that?
apparently I haven't seen you at your worst yet, Just like how I have never even seen the bottom of the ocean.
Or how I have never seen the the back of my reflection,
Hurt me you must, to see If I have the guts, Hurt you I can't, For you aren't strong enough to hold on.

Words you know that can mend your heart.
Words when whispered to your ears you know it would end in tears.

Someone to handle your mental ways.
But why look for someone who could?when you can't even handle your self anyway.

From the hundreds of claims from people who said they would, It's a shame they all couldn't.
Was it so hard to love me? or was it so hard to handle me?

My morning cup of coffee

The first thing I have in my day
a cup of coffee keeps me up for days
a cup of coffee keeps me warm when I'm cold

It helps me focus on everything i do*
my cup of coffee is you.