Black rooms become clearer as my mind only seems to fog,
Wishing only off to drift by these hours that I log,
As dawn draws close and the room grows lighter,
I grip to these few hours I may yet grasp a little tighter.
No shape or way I lay hold me any peace,
Though the thoughts that hold me captive they never seem to cease,
For louder they shout as silence walls to the night,
Though my body and eyes are aching my mind grows stronger with the light,
These hues of grey that form my room seem to be audience to my sleep,
For the only way for me to leave is the secret that they keep,
While against the weight of energy tomorrow demands I try to lift,
I beg for to be awake tomorrow but now to sleep I drift.