At 1:30 AM,
the night is dead.
Hundreds of insomniacs,
they contemplate the moon.
It stares
blankly back
at the city's tired souls.
He does nothing.
The darkness cares not
whether you ever wake,
just that
you are never seen.
But darling,
we must go to bed.
Though he won't miss us,
we sleep,
insignificant
space dust.
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