Sometimes I lay in bed,
at midnight,
and I wonder if time would stop,
if I stayed very still.
Sometimes I wakeup,
at midnight,
before the dream ends,
and I wonder what I could have differently.
When will the torture end?
how long must I stay guilty,
at midnight,
till I can accept?
When will I be free?
how much more should I beat my pitiful conscience,
at midnight,
till I can forgive?
It's a time of haunting,
at midnight,
when your past finally wins,
and catches up to you.
