And at 3am you sit near the window and wonder if there is magic... because all you need are some fairies to take your pain away and help you sleep... you take a book to read... you take a pen and a paper to write...you cling on some music that might just make you fall asleep... yet nothing helps... another sleepless night and all you want is the dawn to break soon....

A fleeting second on someone's news feed,No dearth of meanings for those who read,Not my stories but 'tis what I think,I say I don't write poems, I just write dreams.

You write poems with your fingertipsAnd I keep listening to the songs written on my skinBy some distant dream, similar wordsBut the verses never meet...

Because there are a million thoughts that never sleepand a million more that wake up as each second passes by...And it's insanity insidebut I can no longer keep quietOh, I can't speak as wellI need to writeI have to write...

Maybe that's what writers do-Maybe they exaggerate pain just so that you feel okay about what you're feeling.