To start the day with a sleepy yawn.
To rub your eyes and curse the morn.
Reluctantly put your feet on the floor
Wishing you could sleep some more.
Doing the things you always do
On auto-pilot all day through.
"You look tired," just falls on deaf ears
It's been the norm for too many years.
Just making it through the day is a feat
without actually falling asleep.
Existing, not living. Too tired for pleasure
The effort required is too great to measure.
Judgement is flawed, emotions are high
Sometimes it's all you can do not to cry.
Each hour seems so long as you crave your bed.
Just longing to rest your weary head.
But then, all of a sudden, your brain is alert.
Thoughts running riot, reliving the hurt.
Tossing and turning all through the night
As your body refuses to give up the fight.
Exhaustion takes over with minutes to spare
Until the morning alarm cuts through the air.
And so it all starts again, each day back to back.
This is the life of the insomniac.