Nine hours it has been,

Of great pain and turmoil;

. .

I feel the life sucked out of my,

It is,

One-thirty in the morning;

I cannot sleep while he sleeps,

She sleeps in peace,

A burden unloaded;

I feel the wrath of injustice,

Just as it is;

The bite of cold steel,

Spreads through my body,

Ice-sharp with its cold fire;

I cannot sleep,

I writhe in agony,

Yet nothing helps;

The dread-fire sweeps,

Me over;

The cuts on my arm,

Not of my doing,

But came before each pain;

The second one flows the river,

More freely;

Both of them find to stab in,

My bone;

One-thirty in the morning;

I cannot sleep while he sleeps,

She sleeps in peace,

A burden unloaded;

I feel the pain of long waiting,

My fault as it is;

Three years spent wasted,

Lay at my feet;

One term of his,

Another's wish landed;

I shiver,

As I am not cold,

But cannot sleep;

I stare at the wall,

Knowing the new day,

Brings no hope;

I curl up,

And dream of dark things..

What does he have,

As the darkness closes in,

That I don't;

Why do nice guys,

Finish last.