3 AM
Written on a whim,Snap the keys,
Bite the lines,
Grin.
Exchanging pen
For computer,
I write nothing,
And laugh.
Just because
I write this out
Some may assume
It matters.
But, truth be told,
This little poem
Means all of
Nothing.
Quick key strokes,
A playful smile,
And precious little sleep,
For me.
A little poem,
With no reasoning,
And no purpose,
For you.
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