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Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2215476
Sometimes I lay and wonder how deep the sleep deficit is.
Sleepy days follow sleepless nights,
Like an endless metronome’s ticking.
Everything has been done before,
Everything is the same today,
Past and future, it is a mixed bore.

Like an endless metronome’s ticking,
Everything has been done before,
Sundown to sun up, tossed and turned,
Smothered by night’s wait evermore.

No sheeps counted helped me
In my quests for slumber,
Gated and gathered they waited,
Hundreds upon sunny hill’s heights.
That I should have slept upon.
Sleepy days follow sleepless nights.
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