2.46
The wind whirls outside my window, the trees banging in time with the ticking of a distant clock, and I lay in wake, in a house of dreamers.
The wind dies does, all that's left is the haunting buzz of silence ringing in my ear. Piercing the nights quiet.
Then a bang intrudes my thoughts, and my droopy eyes snap open.
Sleep evading me once more.
Looking around my room, shadows of mishap objects dance in the glow of my clock, which reads 2:45.
Weariness plagues my eyes and I wish for sleep, bit is again denied.
Insomnia my nightly battle, but I am too tired to fight it. A contradiction of the sorts.
The whirls increase with my growing frustrations and I pray for rain to sooth my night. To rock me to sleep like a baby in its mother's arms. The pitter patter of sweet release.
But it never comes.
My only hope is that maybe tomorrow night; the beast shall surrender its deathly grasp and let me rest for one night.
But I know this is false hope, as the beast clings on, dragging its claws through my resistance.
So I lie in the trap that is my bed, and listen to the night's music, as the wind plays among the trees.
And my clock ticks to 2:46.