Nyctophilia
Nyctophilia I'm sitting here all alone, and its half past one in the morning. The silence is all I can ask for, because it allows me to wander, back and forth. When the moon is high, and half the world slumbers, i am awake, doing things I wished in numbers. This seems infinite, and hidden are no ghosts, for its only the moon and sleep that the night hosts. Nighttime comes with a sense of leisure, You can do things without a fissure, in your schedule. Time seems to drag on, a magic the day cannot brag of. I take out a paper and fold it into a bird. And paint it blue, of which it is third. It joins the flock of paper birds i made earlier, swinging softly from the ceiling, my very own chandelier. My lips part wide to let out another yawn. My body needs sleep, cuz its made for the morn’ When the world thrives in sweet lies and harsh truths,
When men seldom sow but dream of fruits.
I dont fit in there, Its not my thing.
I’d like to fly, stre...