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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.  

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