What Sleepless Nights Are Made Of

"Her name written in the moon between the stars, crossed out, covered up with several black ink marks. The tiny spark, the invisible pen, marks all you see but cannot read. That little hope, it still burns faint, the fire burns, always.

 

The dawn always comes late in the summer but always too early to prepare. Morpheus drapes his cloak across the land. The betrayer of my sleep, all these hopes and memories; bring forth the night but let me sleep.

He smiles and sings to me:

'As the fantasies dissolve; distractions fade away. Reality sets in; in the dark your mind will play."

This poem is about: 
Me

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