ever wake up at 5am
not to sleep again
that's what this poem is about

the small grey hours
before dawn
when you yawn
lying awake
but asleep
remebering each mistake
those seconds, minutes & hours
when they have their powers
they fawn
they foresake
we re-take
each mis-take
we feal them deep
we read them & we weep
praying to sleep
but staying awake
remembering each mis-take
there in our bed
awake
a sleep
lost
in the memories
that are dead
lost
in the true s that have been read
paying the cost
of what we have lost
of those old used to be's
of old memories
there we see's
our own histories's
as they be's
realities
not just wanna be's

from thought to thought
reality
of who we be
and what we see
of what we sought
and what we bought
and what we wrought
there in those small grey hours
when Life was beyond our powers

when Life sour's
there in those small grey hour's
before dawn
when we are shown
Reality
forced to see
just who we be
or who we are
there beyond the morning star
there where
Today
does lay
there
with it's yesterday's
with memories
and histories
and used to be's
that are no more
so what is in store

what is the flower
that bloom's
in those grey hour's
is it just doom
and gloom
that i may asume
presume
the worst
assume the best
and rest

in those
few grey hours
we chose
to have their powers
from yesterday
anyway
there are their own flower's
there in those
if we chose
a few grey hour's