Three o'clock in the morning.
Starting to wake me again,
Starting to shake me, break me again.
Anxiety consumes me,
But energy and creative flow make my hands shake as I write,
As I clench my chest,
As my mind races.
The universe is prying my eyes open,
Trying to show me brighter colors than the radiant colors I'm seeing now.
Colors that only few have seen.
I will start writing when the universe wakes me.
Something great will come from it.
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