Midnight as you know it best,
closing in you as you want to rest,
the time before was just a test,
just to see if it would hurt your chest.
Looking now across the night,
the pain in your chest is getting tight,
on the rooftop sitting under the light,
thinking about the fruitless fight.
The ringing noise of the clock's chime,
hearing the sounds of the city's crimes,
half past one is now the time,
and this is the end of my rhyme.
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