it is 12:25 a.m. and there are birds singing outside of my room
how is it that
at night, the angels of the morning haunt me
and during day, the demons of night still tempt me?
there are mysterious forces in the world
the chorus of birds never seem to cease

why does nature itself intend to torment me so,
when i am the poet
who writes of her beauty dutifully,
without fail or hesitation?
i am unable to sleep tonight
and tomorrow will be hell.

are these birds demons or angels?
their voices are so sweet, yet their song brings me grief, nonetheless
it is impossible to tell.