restless

The clock ticks slow, a mocking, steady beat,

Each second echoes in my weary head.

Another night, another sleepless feat,

I toss and turn upon my aching bed.

My body screams for rest, a primal plea,

A heavy weight, a leaden, dragging chain.

I yearn for slumber, wild and deeply free,

But sleep, a phantom, dances in disdain.

My eyes are burning, gritty, red, and sore,

From staring at the darkness, vast and deep.

The shadows lengthen on the bedroom floor,

While whispered worries promise I won't sleep.

My mind, a battlefield, a raging war,

Of thoughts and memories that clash and brawl.

Old hurts resurface, wounds I can't ignore,

And future fears stand ready for my fall.

I count the sheep, I breathe, I try to calm,

But racing thoughts just multiply and breed.

My spirit falters, weakened by alarm,

As hope gives way to a desperate, aching need.

The dawn arrives, a pale and sickly light,

That crawls across the room, a silent thief.

Another day begins, a weary fight,

Fueled by caffeine, and a stolen, fleeting grief.

I'm always tired, a living paradox,

A body yearning, but a mind awake.

A prisoner trapped within these mental blocks,

Forever longing for a slumber I can't take.