1 am thoughts

At night, the world forgets to whisper back.
The ceiling becomes a sky too wide,
and silence hums like a wound that never scabs.

Everyone else is somewhere—
in someone's arms,
in dreams that do not ache.

But I am here,
counting shadows like old regrets,
listening to the clock
that only speaks in loneliness.

There’s no one to lie to in the dark.
No mask to wear,
no voice to pretend I’m fine.

Just the truth—
that the night knows me best
and still offers no comfort.