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They say 3 am is witching hour
But the scariest thing I’ve ever found there is my mind
That sinking lonely feeling that makes you want to text your ex, “you up?”
The darkness outside is like a flashlight into the emptiness
That creeps up on you
That’s not a robber, It’s just insomnia rapping at your door
You greet her like an old friend
And you put on a pot of coffee
It feels like you gave up on your bed years ago.
You don’t remember the last time you’ve seen it,
You long so much to rekindle your friendship
But she’s been ghosting you
You incessantly texted her every night
And now every form of contact just feels
Like the silence broken
Only by the crashing waves of tears
And the broken record
Of everything I’ve ever done wrong
It’s witching hour and I am in a trance
The only demons here are the ones I’ve summoned
With bad decisions
It’s twitching hour and the coffee is seeping into my pores
I wish I was slipping into my bed
And not deeper into the darkness of my mind
But I guess 3am is starting to get
A little more


23 year old poet from Columbus, Ohio. Follow me on Twitter and Instagram (@CandyCain152) for blog updates, artwork, for my random thoughts and to hear all about what I'm reading and listening too.

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