You'll probably neve guess what inspired this one.
I lie awake and stare at the wall across the room.
I wonder what I’ve done to bring on this kind of doom.
My partner lies beside me, snoring away in solemn bliss.
Their sleep is yet untroubled as if nothing is amiss.
The minutes and the hours slip away into the night,
But my mind seems to think that something isn’t right.
I tried a glass of milk warmed gently for my cup.
I read a book, took a walk, and propped my head right up.
I counted all the sheep ever raised in county Glen,
And still could not drop off to sleep, so I took up my pen.
I thought that I could use the time to write to all my kin,
But found that my sleep-fogged brain had not a thought within.
And still I lay un-sleeping, while those around me are at rest.
If Morpheus would take me, I’d sleep right with the best.
The clock upon the wall takes no note of my distress,
And has slowed its working movement to half-rate--maybe less.
My tired eyes are burning, and I wish that they would close,
So that I could end my yearning, and slip into a calm repose.
The ticking of the clock on the wall beside my bed
Echoes like a tympani booming round inside my head.
One o’ clock, two o’ clock, then three slips slowly by.
I think if I see four, I’ll just break down and cry.
Then, suddenly it’s morning, and the bell is calling.
I think that this is by far the most appalling thing.
Have a great night. Stick.