Open and wide, my orbs hurt they.
Blinking in gloom, hackneyed but nay.
My thoughts jumbled but bright as day,
For all I did is not but lay.

Early hours, slothful I am.
From rise of dawn, I'm all but calm.
My work is done, but all is sham.
For awake I am to all that's gam.

Wistful and sad throughout my being,
Odious I am to all but keen,
I none but wish to make it lin.
All contempt inferior to the insomniac!