I'm tired.
I can hardly stay awake.
My fingers slowly hit the keys,
Errors plague my poetry,
While forming this soliloquy,
For you, beloved reader.

The afternoon is lulling me
To sleep away my life.
What point is there in staying up?
My sink is full of coffee cups.
This poem's not at all abrupt,
'Cause I am half asleep.

One stays awake for days
To finish papers, keeping up.
There's nothing worse than finding you
Are far behind your friends in school
And all because you've been a fool
And slacked off in your studies.

But behind I am,
And now I must catch up.
So what's the point in losing sleep?
Odd hours, true, I do now keep
But one can't win a sure defeat
And that is what I'm playing.