Insomnia III
A moonlit night painted in the black,
Every sight, sense, smell, sound, taste and touch,
All of those words, memories cannot be given back,
An insomniac's time to be awake a day as such,
All around and there it is still and quiet,
Gone is the daydream and back to reality,
But in one's brain racks a storm and riot,
And in a sense a loss of a human's normality,
Tossing and turning during the night,
Where art thou sandman to send me to sleep?
Morning comes fast and soon becomes light,
For I am sick and tired of counting sheep,
Close your eyes and dream tonight,
But don't forget the bedbugs bite.
