It's getting harder to write when you are not getting enough sleep.
4 a.m. sunday morning
sometimes nights are like that
awash with shadows
the rain calling your name
the night grumbles and growls
nine floors below
blue red strobe lights, doors slam
the rain is falling, scattering
like silver needles
in the glow of streetlights
voices, muffled by the wind
a woman's plead
shrill, and angry words
take the brawl somewhere nabeh!
or maybe the rain is already
washing the blood
off the cold asphalt.
20/04/2016
© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ), 2016
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