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.