The Ghosts Of 3 A.M. Poem by Vincent Bayer

The past
rolls by Like a funeral procession
As you lie awake in darkness.
And sleep, and peace of mind, are strangers
In your realm of self torment.
Here in the desolate hours of night
From the far corners of the minds eye
Come the ghosts of 3 a.m....

The black rays
Of the suns dark sister
penetrate the veil of time,
casting light into the secret grottos
And dim caverns of memory.
There among the ruins
Of life's less graceful moments
Dwell the ghosts of 3 a.m....