I’m writing this poem at 3:12 in the morning the wind is howling and outside the rain is pouring I can’t seem to sleep side effects of being a poet up if anyone needs me and everyone knows it My crush is still oblivious my heart is still an idiot my love is still insidious and my brain is still too serious I’ve made a daily writing goal write just once a day even if it reeks of pallor writing slump begone I say A poet gets no sleep nor do they get quiet for their mind is always screaming deep into the dark night They also make sketchy rhymes just like the one above because it is so late and my brain is too addled with love Good night my fellow writers to the lovers and the fighters to everyone who dares to dream you’re never quite as alone as you seem ~e.a.p.