Sometimes I wonder if it’s alrightThat all my best thoughts come late at nightAlthough I can be quite bright when it’s dayIt’s as though all the best thoughts hide away
What is the reason behind this sadness?What is the method to my madness?Well, if I knew, would I be writing this?Anyways, with my thoughts, it’s hit or miss.
I either love them so muchThat they easily come in clutchTo save my daytime work and activitiesAnd fuel my hangout festivities
But sometimes I wakeAnd I gape at what I create“How to do touch ID with your nose”An eccentric poem, written in prose?
For the most part, at leastThe genius comes out at midnight, est.And probably lasts between then and 6 AMSo I’ll go back to bed, but I’ll see you all then…