Insomnia is a burden shared by many world wide
It leaves us not bushy tailed nor bright eyed
The ‘wee small hours’ can be our friend
Or a nightmare that never ends
Tossing and turning in our beds
demons run amok through our heads.
We get up to escape them to no avail
they grab and swing from our night-shirt tails
Down’t wooden hill we may likely tread
To ‘scape from the horrors in our bed
but the monsters are hiding in a place more dark
than under the mattress having a lark.
Existentialism and the bills we must pay
our minds racing forward to red letter day,
those demons who with us stay
and with our sanity they nightly play
Dawn breaks over yonder hill
In time to remind us to take our pill
We should have taken it before midnight
maybe before the end of daylight
But there it sat on our night-stand
craftily evading the reach of our hand.
We gave up the fight to take it by eight,
the optimal time to reduce the night freight.
Now morning has come to this weary night owl
awake all night, questions fair and foul
abounded through our heads
while we chased the demons from our beds.
And with the resurrection of the sun
a more pressing question to mind has come
should I have porridge or bacon and sausage
In my new day of struggle avoiding dotage.