the3rdpersonstory

It’s hard to write at day,

With all the people walking

It’s hard to sit.

It feels like sin

To pray sometimes at day,

Someone might see, or catch me.

The night is not disturbed, 

Turns its face away when 

Sleep is stolen and hides the 

Thieves from day.

The people close their eyes and pray,

Blindly, that someone might see,

Not likely, they close their eyes,

Still, sitting in the dark

And in the day.