What Keeps Me Alive At 2am 

Her poetry resides in her pain

And what a dangerous place that is to live 

She can only make sense of everything 

When she’s aching from within

Joy brings writers-block

But when she cries, prose flows like tears from her pen

And those wounding words that haunt her mind 

Have now become her very best friends

 
Bitter kisses transform into songs that ascend from the tip of her trembling tongue 

Brutal thoughts leave bruises on her intellect and loneliness leaves scars on her lungs 

Her poetry resides in her pain 

And sadness invites a comforting calm 

Enthralled by her light, a short lived haiku 

No one notices when she’s gone 

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