A Nightly Trip.


Somewhere near a town called Somnia,
Not far from the land of nod,
A girl finds herself counting sheep,
Sitting all on her tod.

“How the hell did I get here?”
She wonders to herself.
“All I want to do is sleep
And not be left on consciousness’ shelf.”

More time passes and she grows impatient,
The sheep begin to lack.
Her prayers are yet to be answered,
But still she uses the same tack.

“For crying out loud!”, She moans once more,
“Just let me fucking sleep!”
But who on earth is she yelling to,
But the lowly, countable sheep?

It is a town I have visited often, in the night,
A little too often, I would say.
But once you find yourself Insomnia,
You are prone to return, or simply stay.

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