Insomniac
Sometimes I lie awake and wonder, The cars drive by casting figures on the walls, The night is peaceful but not to me. The moon goes down, the sun comes up. ~Me~
On a bed of soft feathers and 100% cotton.
But it feels like a bed of nails,
Hard, painful, restless...just like this night.
Their drivers hypnotized by the long, black nothing before them.
The lights of their steel machines dance in the room,
The room where I lay, sleepless...a poor insomniac.
Gunshots fly through the endless sky.
Sirens are ringing, echoing in my mind.
Will this night of torment ever end?
Still wide awake I step out onto the porch.
The sun is blinding, the birds chirping.
This beautiful country is what cures my insomnia.
I sleep.....
