A sweet symphony,
Is booming in the middle of the night,
Making itself known in my head.

Sleep is no longer important,
Listen to the different tunes dance around you.
Everything is pounding against your skull,
That you can't help but hum along to.

Vibrating notes that leaves bittersweet taste.

Leaving nothing misery in its wake,
Till you finally can drown it out,
But its to late, 3am flashes on the nightstand.

Sleep shall never come easily,
Not with my 'Symphony of Bittersweet Paranoia.'

I woke up at 3 Am again.
What a nightmare.
Losing you wasn't a dream. It was a reality that has yet to hit me.
I know once it does I will go insane.  
Or maybe I already have.
I no longer know the difference between a nightmare and reality because when you left it felt so unreal.
I can't wait to wake the hell up and let you go.

Being better doesn't mean you have to prove others you are,
Being better doesn't mean you have all the answers in the world; But better means you went through hell and got back from that horrid place,
Being better is how you want YOU to be.
Being better is being human

It's 3 am in the morning,
And a girl like me should be sleeping.
But why am I staring at the ceiling,
While thinking of the wounds that are cutting?

It's 3 am in the morning,
And a daughter like me should be resting.
But why am I staring at the ceiling,
While asking myself if all I had to do was babysitting?

It's 3 am in the morning,
And a student like me should be studying.
But why am I staring at the ceiling,
While seeing the madness in schooling?

It's 3 am in the morning,
And a wife like me should be in the middle of love making.
But why am I staring at the ceiling,
While tasting lust in everything that he's doing?

It's 3 am in the morning,
And all the feelings kept coming.
Lips are being pursed into thin linings,
Suppressing all the sobs that kept screaming.

They say if you’re awake at 3am, you’re either inlove or broken.
I say it’s neither.
Perhaps it is the silent space between feeling too much and feeling nothing at all.
The indiscernible sentiments of someone who has been long lost and is yet to be found.
A soul that is neither gleeful nor wretched;
And instead waiting to feel, pondering on certain circumstances,
Or probably continually yearning for a type of serenity that time could still not dare to give.