When I study Poets
who passed their hours
in passion, peace
and quiet thoughts-
Who spun their words
from sylvan towers
and sat at ease
in flowered courts.

Or in Amherst hurt
the single girl
who pressed against
her windowpanes-
While a thousand
hours alone unfurled
her heart commenced
to pen the rains.

I'm juxtaposed
by vanished stars
who scribbled into a
scrolling sky-
Their elegant prose
and lovely scars
speak forever; they
can never die.

3:27 am is for the student who weeps
Facing so many failures, forcing himself up,
battling for high numbers

3:28 am is for the alcoholics getting wasted
Drinking themselves into sleep
Trying to forget someone who left

3:29 am is for the poets who can't sleep
Words coming out of their longing heart
Writing for someone who wouldn't listen

3:30 am is for the artists expressing themselves
Into artworks, because their minds are alive
With the scenery of someone who is not there

3:31 is not for the lovers making love all night
Nor for the lovers asleep in each others arm

3 am is for the lonely,
For those who loved
and never loved in return