Nights

It’s 1 o’clock in the morning,
With my body lay upon bed,
Staring onto the plain ceiling,
Thoughts occupied my head ,
But neither of them help,
Many nights have I postponed my sleep,
To be awaken in a pool of sweat,
I gasped for air and found myself alone,
Like many nights before I ended up writing ramblings,
My dreams laid upon paper, thoughts into ink,
Not awake nor am I dreaming,
The night turned the darkest as my heart slowly sinks,
Here comes the inevitable thought of my demise,
Uncertain and unknown,
Like threaded fabric, my fate had been sown,
Every night I simply wait,
And every night my death is postponed

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