It’s two in the morning and i have nothing to say
the thoughts inside my head are taking my breathe away
and as i lay and i think, the tears roll down my face
as if trying to decide whose going to win the race
the race between me and my thoughts spilling on to a paper
between time and how i’ll feel when i read this poem later
i apologize for keeping you up late at night
while we lay on the phone and all i do is cry,
cry about what’s wrong with me when i don’t really know
thinking i’m a bomb and i’m about to blow
trying to figure out when i started to feel so low
but then you say
breathe
and count to three
then type the words as if you’re trying to say them to me
but the thing is i can’t say them at all
poetry is meant to catch the feelings that fall
both eyes open
no words spoken
your mind awoken
and that is the token