Night Shift

Waking up, I see the stars.
Going to sleep, I feel the sun shining on my face.
To keep moving, I chuck in coffee, two cups, large, lots of sugar, no milk, with a tint of haze.

Through the dark, through the unknown,
through the gaze of the, judgy, mighty owl.
To push on, on my own,
through the lonely abandoned hall.

I can hear the  ghosts whispering.
Sometimes, Lucifer himself staring at me.
Existing with their endless, useless bickering.
Something for me to listen to, just to pass time.

When all colors fade into black,
when only ones left are the insomniacs,
I wake up, looking at the stars,
hearing whispers, through the window bars.