It's 3:45 and I feel like it's
time for bed.
Lectures filled with people in
artificial white coats
with the hope of someday
wearing them truthfully.
It's 3:45 and I feel like it's
time for bed.
The piano plays softly
fabricating a calm, peaceful atmosphere
of Christmas
in the cancer center.
It's 3:45 and I feel like it's
time for bed.
She sits a lone on a big, comfy couch
in a tall, cold room
trying to make sense
of it all.