In the dead of night
eyes are naught but blinking.
Fatigue stands idle, unmoving
yet the mind drifts, tethered to the ceiling.

Shadows writhe and slither
murmuring tales of unrest.
Ticking gears—a steady rhythm
mocking the silence in me.

Dreams flickering in and out
my goal under a cruel tease.
The mind under a riptide sea
churning and rolling in its depths.

Amidst this quiet chaos
finally, fragility settles.
Unbound solace pouring
beneath the moon's timeless gaze.