Sometimes I wonder if it’s alright
That all my best thoughts come late at night
Although I can be quite bright when it’s day
It’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 much
That they easily come in clutch
To save my daytime work and activities
And fuel my hangout festivities

But sometimes I wake
And 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 least
The genius comes out at midnight, est.
And probably lasts between then and 6 AM
So I’ll go back to bed, but I’ll see you all then…