Damn.. Three A.M

Three A.M. Rush hour of the soul. Once more, I rise — No reason, no call, just silence That screams a little louder at this hour. It's become a ritual, this quiet torment, A lullaby of memories I never asked to remember. Some too heavy to carry, Others far too sweet to relive — Too golden for someone like me. Perhaps that's why my mind Shakes me awake in the dead of night: To whisper regret For all I failed to cherish. Damn this hour. Damn Three A.M.