While others sleep, content in their beds,
I find their quiet'd state disturbing
And sit in the dark of my mind, humming-
Songs which, in daylight, they'd force from their heads.
Melody wraps me, soothes me completely-
Though the tune it brings is broken at best;
While singing of Death, composer of rest,
The sweetest of sleep still will elude me.
The exhaustion is madd'ning in my mind-
If not for the wretched tune in itself-
And though I cry out and SCREAM for my health
You will be sleeping, your eyes and ears BLIND.Hour by hour, my mind lays in wait
Praying for silence, for sleep, or your voice-
My cries without answers, and undaunted choice
But all tunes will halt when the day fin'ly breaks.
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