It’s Five o’clock in the Morning

Found a sad, angsty song I wrote at 4am one fine day this winter, but I think it works nearly as well as a poem.

I’d been having a little trouble with the noise level of some of my fellow students in university housing, and while it does make me laugh now, it wasn’t at all funny that night.  I seem to remember that it came about because this was the first time in my life I’ve seriously considered screaming out the window at someone.  In the interest of not being an equally terrible neighbor, I did this instead.

 

It’s one o’clock in the morning, and I ain’t sleeping,

Mind won’t be silent, thoughts are all leaping.

Roommates and neighbors, chat where they meet,

The noise echoes on concrete, a cacophonous song beat.

 

It’s two o’clock in the morning, and I ain’t sleeping,

This night is unending, I may end up weeping.

The roommate is fighting, with Mr. Man,

I hear through the walls, she is taking no stand.

 

It’s three o’clock in the morning, and I ain’t sleeping,

Those two are still going, with no sign of slowing.

There might have been drinking, it’s par the course,

but screaming and shouting, won’t fix the source.

 

It’s not going well, and I wish them to hell.

 

It’s four o’clock in the morning, and I ain’t sleeping,

This angst and disquiet, is thoroughly seeping.

I’ve closed up the window, to deaden the sounds,

Now the bed sheet is clinging, and my teeth will be grounds.

 

It’s five o’clock in the morning, and I ain’t sleeping,

Mind won’t be silent, thoughts are all leaping.

I’m biting my nails off, though I haven’t for years,

This endless night stretches, I just can’t change gears.

 

I wish them to hell, but it’s best not to dwell.

 

I’ve since moved to an exquisitely quiet street with a very considerate roommate.  The silence is glorious.

Sincerely,

Bettina

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