The Early Bird

Isolation is like a tailored suit for me. I might die in these clothes.

 I’m plagued by a restless mind. My thoughts buzz like locust over Egypt leaving its people frantic and throwing punches at villainous gusts.

I cannot sleep. I feel pink, harboring crimson colored questions underneath the single and only shade of white.

And when the day is overrun, she becomes the night and the night overcomes her.

Art wears her well. Its the only thing that lets her cease and exist all at once.

So she sings with the owls, is mused like the tall tales of bats, and wades in the dark pools of her mind that drank too much fear.

Wishing for only one thing… that it will be morning soon.