I can hear the whispers beneath the walls;
Like shifting winds they toss the leaves.
I can hear the water dripping from the bathroom faucet;
Like a drop of rain that hit the rooftops in a slow motion.
I can hear the clock ticking every second, hour after hour;
Like waiting earnestly for a pleasant time to see the sun.
Where is it now?
The Sandman that comes every night, where is he?
He has not come, but wherelse to follow his plight.
Has he forgotten me, when things have turned out right?
The songs he sing that make me feel alright.
I wait for him to come.
My dreams interrupted from my silent cries.
The torment inside my head, like clanging pots and pans.
Incapable of closing my tired eyes.
Twisting and turning to get a good night’s rest.
To my demise, a failing grace.
An enmity I’d like to negate.
Insomnia, I’d like to kill.