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This thought seems to be reoccurring.
Like that stranger you see in the halls everyday,
Yet you don't know their name
Or even a fragment of their story.
This thought has that exact feeling,
But contains a bit more of a sting when it passes
Through my fatigued head.
This thought is of the fairytales  
All forged in my 3am mindset.
A mindset that often strikes me at times
Very distant from 3am.
These fairytales are perfect in every way.
But, as all things do they have a fatal flaw.
They will remain as fairytales.
Stuck in the depths of my mind that will remain
Locked up like the restricted section of a library.
Living a thousand lives just as the characters
In fantasy books do.
Straining to brake the chains and locks
That keep it restricted from the outside world.
Sadly, I am the only one trying to break these chains.
Others say they want to,
But fail to show up during this distant time
Of 3am.
Another jumble with another hidden message..
You don't know the true meaning
Of consoling a cup of coffee
Until your seemingly full night of sleep
Leaves you with bags under your eyes
And lonely thoughts in your head.

Your eyes yearning to close,
But your awakened mind refusing
To let the darkness seep in.
Feeling physically drained
and going mentally insane.

Turning to a cup of pleasure
Waiting for the black holes under your eyes
To brighten up without the help of cosmetics
For once.

You know that the dreams
That still haunt you were only fictional.
Yet, the visions still cloud your eyes
With memories of your exhaustion.

So, the cycle will continue with caffeine
As the only remedy.
Coffee Consoling, a helpful thing
For those with no sleep.
Written after a night of terrors.
Our veins are not filled with scripture
Our bones are not built of steel
Our brains are not hardwired to think the same
Our hearts are not the ones supplying us with love
Our muscles are not meant to withstand the weight of a thousand lies
But our souls are meant to keep us going

Whether your soul is forged from one who was old
Or from one who was but a child
A soul is a soul
It cannot be changed or rewired to please those in this
Unmanageable world
Tonight, I spoke into the darkness,
No stars to light my way,
       The black void all encompassing

   My words drifting up in ribbons,
          I waited for something, anything to happen

              I felt a rumble that was akin to ripples emanating from a drop of water hitting a puddle

        I was small next to the impossible,
And when it spoke back, it changed me
      
        The blank canvas of stark black was pierced by blades of light,
    The sky becoming a shutter in a rain storm
           Blowing open and closed
       The words came and wrapped themselves across my body in its entirety
        Constricting my air flow

             I felt myself shatter
  An implosion of feeble glass
       Ricocheting through a skeleton of paper, reflecting the brightness above inside ripped skin

                I was nothing.
                I didn't exist.
                I floated in an incomprehensible place that had no end, no walls

     No ceiling or floor

            Just illumination in every direction

                    I opened my eyes
  
    And was blinded by an incredible radiance

      I shut my eyes tight and swatted in front of me
        My hand struck something metal and I yelped in pain
          
          I shot up and stared downward
    Towards the desklamp unplugged on the floor
        
          Breathing heavily, I sat upright in my bed,
                 *Struggling to pull away words that had already sunken in
Writer's block
Yearning to say those words,
But not daring to enter those lingual waters.
Being entranced by the soft touch of
Lips to her own
Makes the once fear
Of expressing what is wanted
Vanish.

Except for these few words
Which remain trapped
Behind a closed jaw
And fingers which refuse to type.

The girl filled with stories
Becomes timid.
The girl who speaks of finding something real
Stops in the tracks of these words.
All in the name of losing.

Losing what she thinks is real.
Losing because of the release of what she has concealed.
Losing the thing she vanquishes sleep over.
Losing her realistic shot at happiness.
Losing the muse that sheds light
On her old soul.

Her soul is restless and dark,
Or so it seemed.
A hazy veil is lifted after years of cloaking
The true potential of an individual
That no one truly knew.

This unexpected unmasking
Came as a jolt,
Something electrifying.
It revived the girl's heart.

But still,
The girl sits waiting for a time
To unfasten her jaw and stretch her fingers
To reveal those words

Those horribly whimsical words.

— The End —