It's 3:29 in the morning
a time when I should be sound asleep
and not wide awake with eyes aweep
with thoughts of you aborning.

It's 3:33 in the morning
I shouldn't be having these thoughts of you
but that is about all I seem to do:
despairing and forlorning.

It's 3:36 in the morning
I hope and I pray that sleep will return
but no matter what, my psyche will burn
with your accursed scorning.

the time is now 3:41
so now I think this poem's done.

04/27/2003