It's 3:37am.  
In the silence of being lost in the deepest things.
This is the place I don't feel alone. 
This is the place I call home. 
I was tired, my soul warn down. 
I am fighting a battle, 
one within the confines of my own self. 
Sleep is simply restlessness. 
And though my eyes grow weary, 
I finally feel awake.  
It's 3:41am,
the sheets are a vacant. 
I am not alone. 
Left with my own photos. 
Time passes slowly when you're in love.

--But this is just another autobiography, examining the prosopography of me.
 By: Emma Marie.