4 A.M.

4 A.M.

It's 4 a.m.
It would be quiet
if it were not for the silence
screaming in my heart
as the blood there boils ...
rushes to where
I do not want it to go.

This is what a lunatic feels.

The drum banging in my chest
is some demon
wreaking havoc with my heart
tearing apart
the very fabric of my being.
The thoughts that race 'round
my brain only think one will wim
first place.

They have been fooled.

It's 4 a.m.
and other thouths
have already made the race
from here to there
and back again.
And in the silent pounding
the winner declared ...

I must die.

And at 4 a.m.
the lunatic agreed.

mebw
© 5/15/13