Trying to fall asleep
is like chasing
elusive shadows
Where each breath is a
remembrance of meadows.
What must I do
to stop chasing the nights
Filled with disarrays?
Where the rooms
Are just a war zone
In a deep trench of my own.
Like an infantry soldier
fighting sandman, I surrender
Nights of quiet meadows
Where the heart is pierced by
Insomniac arrows.
In what dance must I partake
to find sleep that hides deep
Within the sleep cycle REMs?
Where each attempted cycle
Becomes a failed composition
Like writing a waltz symphony
With a broken harmony.
Must I obtain the dream
catchers to unfold the nights?
Sleep is like a fleeting flirtation
Slipping away in fractured chaos
Leaving the mind grasping for direction.