by Marc Carver

I like writing
when the rest of the world is dead
Three, four in the morning
the silence deafens you
as those pure thoughts run through your head
and once they start
they are hard to stop.
I used to get them a lot,
now less.

They always feel like the first time I felt them
nothing really hidden by the people who do the day’s things

The stillness of the night
allows anything to happen
all you have to do is feel them
those lost souls reaching out to you.

Let them take you where they need to go
They are like everybody else
they just want someone
to listen.

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