finding words,
that glow
under the
covers,
and rhymes
that punch
me in the liver
when I can’t
fall asleep,
makes me
feel alive.

writing
poems
that would
make my
mother cry
is the only
way I can
quietly
scream
at three
in the
morning
while the
house is
peacefully
asleep.

a quiet prayer at 3 am (via youshouldacceptchaos)

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