This is for the broken soul
He drinks coffee in the middle of the night
Avoiding the hour hand as if time does not exist
As if sleep is an inconvenience and not a need
He is an insomniac who writes until the caffeine wears off
This is for the one haunted by his demons
Who chase him even in the daylight
He tells me that they are metaphorical
But I see the life drained from his smile
This is for the one who hides his truth in pretty verses
His excuse is poetic lisence
His exuse is that he loves the hiding
The monsters under his bed are now his best friends
And I want to save him before he gets comfortable
Darkness is a welcoming embrace
But it is not a home
Please don’t get used to the cold
You’ll one day mistake it for warmth
