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Click hereIt begins
At the corners
I can feel the white
Turning red
As I sit silent
In the dim light
Lids creeping down
As the sandman's visits
Become more frequent
But I can't bring myself
To be the one
Who says stop
Instead
I feed the burn
With the sound
Of one hand typing
Caught it perfectly. The sence of pushing yourself to write just one more line.
OK another, then I'll stop.
Well, maybe ONE more before I go to bed.
Tap, tap, tap,
typing
at 4 a.m.
the work's never done;
whoever wants it to end?
Go on - keep on tap, tap, tapping.
I know the feeling of wanting to overpower sleep in favor of staying online.
I love the way your sentences are so strong, yet leave a wonder within th ewhole poem., It is almost an ominous feel, I just really enjoyed reading this :)
maria