Ah, you are mighty clever! In the night you keep me up, but without you, it's hard to sleep. How many layers do you bear? More than the eyes can see, perhaps more than the mind can conjure. In the heart of wrath, you bring peace, oddly you also tend to provoke strife. When adversity strikes it isn't wise to use you, but it's also not wise to ignore you. Your complexity is far and wide! My dearest silence— please, hush and let me rest.
I am the midnight of forgotten memories stuck in a phase of insomnia, lost in cloudy spaces of regret and a multitude of despair. Forgotten, such inadequacy of what lingers, the forgotten one sadly never forgets. Those long night conversations, laughter by the bonfire, hanging together at games, being the go-to person... Such beautiful memories. It's terrifying to be at midnight! But if not me, then who? And not at midnight, then when? Who else remembers the "good" old days?
I am the midnight of forgotten memories, a collector for things that have passed. Well past the trilogy and deep into the night, insomnia plagues my body and rewinds the time-sucking me in an inescapable whole. Forgotten memories only wish to be seen, to be loved, to exist once more, to be cherished. Many memories have gone neglected, but the forgotten memories will not go away for good, it always has a second wind. That dense wind blows in me.
I am the midnight of forgotten memories put away to rot away in a photo album, removed from the surface of what matters. Midnights are my time for basking in sweetness. Too bad that the memories are only a short dream, one that has restored even what others forgot. It's at midnight that insomnia strikes and there go the wheels of years past.
I am the midnight of forgotten memories, reflected through dark clouds and dense winds. Trying to become whole again, but stuck in a hole again.
I am watching the painted sky Suffering from twilight hues Dusk of nightmares melting into dawn of dreams Echoing the silence while absorbing screams Uplifting the sunken soul that stands on bruised feet
I stand against the wind Repealing to be a cruise Separating the self from caravan of those who flow with tide I am building my empire of solitude amidst swarm of smiles Where I could rule and reign the ruins of my very existence
Two things are eating my soul My fancy- repleted with a chain of impossible charms Reality- vomiting out the inevitable failures