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It's three A.M. again...
The night's silence feels like a scream.
I found myself analyzing, once again.
Stress makes my skin itching
Till I let it bleed, bursting.

Disappointments from unsuccessful attempts calling,
Waking my buried feelings, making them digging
My wall that i long tried to built strong

I can feel the sun's plans to rise along
After that, perhaps i'll hear some chirping from birds' songs
And maybe then, these feelings will be gone.

I'll let myself fall into dreams-
A chance to run away from real things-
Until I find myself thinking:
It’s three A.M. again...

Every mistake I’ve made feels as heavy as they made by one hundred men
And maybe when the clock hits six,
I can finally sleep then.
 Sep 11 Night Owl
ViVi
Candle light
Why can’t you shine
A match was hard to find
Maybe try and bind

Where’s your spark ?
Did you have to fall apart
I search within your heart
Only to find mold left to rot

Candle height
No need to fright
I promise it won’t bite
You just have to hold on tight

Are you sure you saw a beam ?
For me, it just seems
You are chasing a lost dream
Where you climb with no limbs

Candle night
I can’t do it, I might
Lose my own fight
Will I ever ignite ?
sometimes burnout feels as if it stays forever
He walks alone, the path unsure,
Yet sees beyond the present lure.
With eyes that pierce the veils of mist,
He speaks of truths the world has missed.

Clad not in robes, but thought and air,
He heeds no crowd, nor seeks their care.
A whisperer of winds and time,
He answers not to man nor clime.

They mock his gait, they jeer, they laugh—
Yet drink his words by quartered draught.
He is the stone the builders spurned,
Yet in his silence, worlds are turned.
An observation for the young and gifted Emirhan Nakas
I was a gifted child. Until I wasn't. I was the golden girl. Until I couldn't burn anymore.
My parents expected me to build wings of gold and fly further than anyone could ever try. I don't blame them, having a child to raise is like sculpting a clay ***, you can shape it the way you like, paint it the color you fancy. To raise a child is to play God. To raise a child is to be God.
But to be a child is to fall, to make mistakes, to fail. The thing about being too bright at an early age means you burn out by the time you're 16 and suddenly the world around you becomes more gray and terribly, terribly lonely. The fire is never warm enough, nothing is ever enough. And one day you find yourself begging to a godless sky, begging for a new spark.
 Aug 25 Night Owl
ac
“you’re so mature for your age”
i was 8
i don’t think i should be mature at 8
i shouldn’t even know what “mature” means
i should’ve been a kid but he robbed me

“YOU NEED TO ACT YOUR AGE”
i am!! i finally am!!!
i’m 14 and messed up completely
this is what it’s like now to be a teen

“act like an adult”
yet i’m treated like a child
no wonder you think im wild

your calling me crazed?
babe im freaking insane!!
i’m 16 and everytime that you call
i bang my head against the wall
i wanna KICK,
SCREAM,
and CRY!!
but that’s not how i should behave
it’s not how i was raised
because im “so mature for my age”
 Aug 25 Night Owl
eliana
I am a child of God,
Lord hear my prayers
but am I the one not listening
I try to figure out the game
yet I struggle and cave
I know I am not perfect
but isnt that what you came for
help the broken, lost, and wounded
weren't you once human too?
thy will be done
I say this every night
but am I the one pulling
away
away
away
I ask for forgiveness
yet i dont forgive myself
I'm afarid of my futrue
where am I to go
what do you want from me
who am I
these thoughts fill my mind
as a reach to grab your BODY and BLOOD
and say "the body of Christ"
You will guide me
You will save me
You are my everything
You
"I created You
I know how many hairs are on your head
I know your suffering,
When I died on the cross
I thought of YOU
You are worth more than many sparrows."
 Aug 24 Night Owl
eliana
Oh night, dear night. Don't you see the moon shine?
Even as the sun rests, light can still be found.
Stars scattered like diamonds in the dark.
Dancing like fireflies, glowing like sparks.
Don't you see me when you look up the sky?
Faintly beaming with light that isn't mine?
Comforting you until dawn, gentle and warm.
Healing all the ache, soothing as a balm.
But my dearest night, the glow does not last
The moon cannot provide the blaze it lacks.
Time and time again, it becomes dark once more.
Gone, banished, no one glances back like before.
All the lux from the warmth of a burning star.
Not mine-- only a vessel from afar
I smile like I mean it, show what they want.
No frown can be found. A reflection, a front.
The stars look down at shattered glass on the ground.
A mirror and a recorder that imitates sounds.
I will never be a bright celestial above.
When I only copy the smile they know and love.
Who am I when I am not the guide at dusk?
Or when I am not the reflection they asked?
Am I the ball that shines only with the sun
Or the mirror that only shows you the fun?
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