At the time of writing, it's already 11:05 PM, 55 minutes before midnight. I couldn't bring myself to read articles this late but worry not, I've had it saved. At the time being, I'm fidgetting on my screen pondering about what to write. This. Late. My head has a slight throbbing inside. I'll need to sleep now, I think. Before that, I'll leave this short poem? or whatever you call it. Bear with my talent at this.
Hear the clock it sings,
No, there is no such thing,
but listen for it continues,
from clockwise it renews.
No young night for sleepy,
Yet late night treated informally,
Time tweaks the truth,
It's not late for unloading thoughts.
Shadows lurking outside,
Yet inside, more entities had reside,
Of whispers cannot decipher,
The noisier it becomes.
Oh see for when it strikes 12
Believes that monster will come and get you,
Must the superstition be in dread,
It's not what makes the night oddly noisier.
Must you guess the reason?
It's close to treason,
faint sounds, closer,
Decode the words you hear, is it clearer?
The mist behind a hazy mind,
The silent cries doubled everytime,
No means to notice,
Yet it's deem unrestrainable.
Some perceives night as noisier due to their inner thoughtsand predicaments. Night is the time of loneliness, deep thinking, reflecting, and being drowned to saddest thoughts of life, existence, disappointment failures and expectations.
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