Untold

It’s always 4 in the morning,

When the heart grows asunder,

when the stars all seem lonely,

separated millions of miles away.

But what about the 5 am insomniacs,

Emotionless as they are,

Sleepless still they stay,

Lying in wait for the next moonrise.

Don’t forget the midday daydreamers,

As they trade soul for passion,

Living a trade most envy,

But solemnly longing for more.


Leave a comment