Wakefulness is such a dreadful curse,

With symptoms like itching tired eyes,

They are searching so diligently,

Eager to find where my lost sleep lies.

The clock steals my time,

Taunting me with its numbers,

Forcefully pulling away each minute,

I could be dreaming in deep slumber.

My hands move quickly across the keys,

A song of restlessness that will not let me be,

My shadowed eyes are dark as the black keys of my piano,

The night passes me by but it won't set me free.

The cool side of my pillow is collecting dust,

I'm mourning the loss of my forgotten dreams,

They lay just behind the closing of my eyes,

But they're miles out of reach or so it seems.

I counted sheep until I ran out of numbers,

Now I'll just accept my fate,

I'll lay awake until my brain revolts,

And I when I crash into sleep the morning can wait.