The weary mind in turmoil writhes and slumber will not come. The moonlight seeps like latticed withered vines. I listen to my heartbeat, in the silence like a drum, And through my shuttered eyes.... see strange designs. The night will not take me prisoner, and bind me to restful sleep. No dreams, or any respite, no way, my soul to keep. Groaning as I turn myself to rest beleaguered pain, I stretch to ease my tortured back and sigh. Then I fluff my pillow to deactivate my speeding brain... Rolling in the covers, as my body sweats and strains, seeking to lose myself, discarding all, my pains
But my eyes are wide... and still the question..."Why?"