This poem deals with one of the things that plagues me from time to time - insomnia. Being bipolar, I am normally very careful to guard my sleep. Lack of sleep usually sets off a major swing of moods one way or the other. More often than not, my frustration levels will skyrocket, and a too-high hypomanic episode will result.

Normally, I am quite blessed with regards to sleep. Usually, I will be asleep within a couple of minutes of my head hitting the pillow. That is why it hits me extra hard when insomnia strikes...

Oblivion

Sleep, sleep, wherefore art thou?
‘Twould indeed be fine to meet thine sweet embrace,
Oblivion, I long for thine whispered sweet nothings,
To bring a fitting end to the day’s hubbub.

I long for the break of the bough,
The cradle rocking gently, night’s kiss on my face.
But alas, the lullaby’s memory in my ear sings
Not, nor doth the calming massage rub.

Damn you night, for you have cheated me
Of the most worthy prize which I seek,
Why, oh why, dost thou keep me from my respite,
What have I done to stay thus awake?

Is it the moon that doth keep me from being free,
Or mayhap my soul’s cankerous reek,
That sees me constantly feeling consciousness’ bite
When I would give all for sweet oblivion’s sake?