Every night
I wait till 4 AM
when the moon comes
to my part of the sky
and illuminates my windowsill
with her silver light
Lunar radiance
lulls me slowly
I listen to the soft song
with closed eyes
sung by the southern breeze
like gentle wind chimes
The dead letters of Sleep
finally arrive at my postbox desolate
but not long before the neon dial starts screaming,
"IT'S TOO LATE! IT'S TOO LATE!"
It's too late..
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 5:11 PM UTC
Every night
I wait till 4 AM
when the moon comes
to my part of the sky
and illuminates my windowsill
with her silver light
Lunar radiance
lulls me slowly
I listen to the soft song
with closed eyes
sung by the southern breeze
like gentle wind chimes
The dead letters of Sleep
finally arrive at my postbox desolate
but not long before the neon dial starts screaming,
"IT'S TOO LATE! IT'S TOO LATE!"
It's too late..
On team insomnia we don't believe in sleep.
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