Poetry

That May Be, 21 (142.)

Time
totally got away from me,
and now
it’s well past midnight.
Actually, it’s past 3 A.M.
I am a little ashamed,
and while I feel
like tomorrow will be okay,
I’m also afraid of
the inevitable burnout I’ll suffer
after so many late nights in a row.
This must be what people mean
when they talk about bad habits
and unhealthy cycles.
Yep, I get stuck in some bad loops.
Allow me to make the promise
everybody makes at some point in their life:
next week
I’ll turn over a new leaf
and go to bed at a decent hour.

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