Why is it easier to write late at night?
Or in the very early morning.
After the sun has long vanished
But hours before light reappears.
Are rays of light penetrating
To my mind’s inner workings?
Am I paranoid
Or just damn tired?
The thoughts come slower
But more deliberately.
Justification, and purpose.
They creep upon me
Like facts I had been ignoring.
But by computer screen light and darkness
Their honesty is striking.
Did the words decide to play this late?
Or did I beg them to
Because it’s easier being truthful
When there’s no one to reveal the truth to.