I playfully imagine sewing my eyes shut,
As frustration and anger rise within.
The solace I sought was a battle away,
So I lay in my sheets and accept my defeat.
To win such a battle would come a reward,
That all equal men accept every night.
To lay my own head upon a soft bed,
And drift off to sleep as if I were dead.
To dream, any dream, that my heart could ever want.
To explore, see, venture, and try.
Yet here, eyes open, is where I now lie.
I beg the madness to answer me, "why?"
Am I doomed to be an owl of the night?
To lurk in the shadows of a waning moon?
Why is my escape unavailable to me?
How long will the nights continue to be this way?
It feels like my sanity is eroding away,
And the lack of rest is causing me pain.
The bags of my eyes grow heavy and full,
And I plead for a God to end it all soon.
I dream for a dream and I lust for sleep.
Just a minute of rest is all that I need.
Sleep is my master, for it controls me,
As I lie in these sheets; a man of defeat.
A piece about my frustrations with my sleeping disorder.