It's 1 am and I'm indulging myself in the darkness

Battling with a growing headache that's trying to overthrow my consciousness

My hands can barely type

while the keys seem to float in a mist of unknown

I don't understand what's happening

The only light comes from the window that's already closed

The door wasn't even open, to begin with

I guess I'll be confined with darkness and the throbbing pain

As the jumbling letters seem to fade,

I try to write a record of my recurring headache

Because maybe I won't be able to meet tomorrow  

So a slot for a little goodbye I am aiming to borrow