And 4am Knows All My Secrets

When the monsters are stuck in her head
With no where to go
And her heroes are sleeping in their beds
She goes downstairs
And makes hot coco
She breathes in deep, taking it in
The chocolate, milk, and a bit of Gin
And clutching her journal and her pen
She sits, takes a sip, and decides to begin
And when the monsters are settled away
And her eyelids droop from the short, long day
She finishes her drink
Puts it in the sink
And goes upstairs, knowing that her fears
are tucked away, as if to sleep
along with the Secrets that 4am keeps