4 a.m.

it’s four a.m. and I can’t sleep
I keep thinking about the company we keep
if they’ll be there tomorrow when the sun comes up
or if they’re more like that old well out back that dried up

the well, she gave plenty when she felt like giving
slowly she didn’t, like many things living
it got to a point I didn’t know
if there’d be any life she’d allow to flow

but still I’d visit
still I’d look
for the sweet sweet nectar
the life of the brook

but this ain’t about the well
it’s about the hell
the damned tomorrow that we know
could be nothing but terror and sorrow

we think
we feel
we dream
we hope

we have visions of tomorrows
we have impending sorrows
we have hopes of brighter days
we have fears in endless ways

We may have failed if we allow our fears of tomorrow to forsake our dreams of today.

It’s 4 a.m. and I can’t sleep.

Think I’ll try again though, since I didn’t do a good job of writing what I was thinking anyways.

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