3 am
Eyelids are heavy
Thoughts are stirring
Merging, into new ones
Forming something magnificent
Chills down my body
Feel like hands trying to tickle
And my eyelids want to shut
I want to exasperate feelings
And sleep with a clear mind
Thoughts are out of line
Or unrealistic like hallucinations
I dream of going back in time
And fixing many things
Making myself into something
Something not inferior
Something that is not
Too diffrent or too the same
Critique comes from being
An individual, a follower, or a wannabe
Meanwhile I'm thinking
And trying to create;
To create the most beautiful colors
That I will see when I die.