It's 4 am,
The clock doesn't move.

I can't sleep,
My mind keeps switching,
mentality through the sorrow,
tired, in pain.

I feel useless,
Like a grain of sand,
A sand of time,
meaningless like the past.

I keep my hopes up,
That one day time will move.
It's 04 am,
I'm still alive.

But what does it matter,
Being alive or not,
if you always feel,
Trapped in the past.

A past has stages,
stages of life,
life that was lived by someone that couldn't think.

That someone is me..
Well, it was,
As time stays stopped,
and I remain in the past.

It's 4 Am...
...
Babe.. I can't sleep.. can you hold my hand?..




© Bito_Saiki