Tossing and turning
praying for slumber
awake all alone
time without number.

Hoping the sandman
will visit my bed
quiet the voices
that scream in my head.

Wondering about life
what it all means
too many thoughts
not enough dreams.

The moon and I
have become good friends
counting the hours
until the night ends.

Meeting the morning
still restless, and tired.
"Hey Mr, Sandman
that's it, You're fired!"

WhiteRose