“3:AM”

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It’s three A M,
So early now,
I feel the chill.

As morning comes,
A day begins,
It’s so surreal.

Still the light,
Seeing it there
On window sill,

Has yet moved on,
Leaving me here
To await what’s real.

Moments of truth,
Glimpses of past,
As night stands still.

Still no sleep,
Has gifted me,
This night does steal.

This emptiness,
From yesterday past,
This hole to fill.

I raise my fist,
In rage this night,
Of life’s ordeal.

I scream at you,
As morning comes,
And night is still.

It’s three A M,
And still I moan,
With things I feel.

.
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved
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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/634092 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2013′