i know 2 am,
i know it backwards, inside out.
i know the tread of tired tip-toes,
that against the silence shouts.
it's when the night time has its guard down
about to swap watch with the day,
and it will talk to you of truth
if you can coax it the right way.
i know 2 am,
the way it weaves throughout the city,
to settle softly on the things
that in the daylight aren't so pretty.
i know those safe beneath sheets
will never see the dark so deep,
and there's a reason that the dreamers
aren't the one who are asleep.
