It's 2:30 am.
And I'm thinking of
Everything,
And nothing.
About the next words
To put into this poem.
About how cold it is,
Lying in my bed.
(Despite it being summer)
About how I have so much,
And so little to do today.
About the cut I have,
That had stung really bad.
About that thing I had said,
Roughly years ago 3.
About that giant-ass spider,
Who's currently residing
In our bathroom.
And about that blood I shed,
From picking a scab.
©5braincelz
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