Sleepless Hours

The clock is striking on.

I’ve lain here from dusk till dawn

I’ve listened to each hour talk

Their same old tick and tock.

I’ve watched each number

While waiting for slumber.

By one, I just want to rest,

By two, I am slightly depressed,

When three strikes, I want to cry,

When four strikes, I do cry.

The clock is ticking on and on

Of what I shouldn’t hear until dawn

But I hear every single hour

And I get out of bed, with no power.

All I am able to do is watch the ceiling

And question every thought that makes my being

Perhaps I will drift off, perhaps I will not

There is still tomorrow night, if not.







3 thoughts on “Sleepless Hours

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