5:36 AM.
The city’s mine?
Engines scream, tires burn, and the night smells like smoke and gasoline.

I’m not lost, I’m alive.
The younger me never left.
He’s the one riding wheelies down empty streets,
leaning on old cars with no fear in his eyes.

This is the version of me that doesn’t sleep,
doesn’t wait,
doesn’t ask.

Even if it hurts.
Even if it breaks.
Even if it’s 5:36 AM and the gang is only me against the night.