Tales of an Insomniac
I Come Alive in the Nighttime
Sometimes I don’t sleep at night
Sometimes read a book
Or maybe two
Sometimes I bundle up
And I go outside
I wander the narrow roads
As the faded yellow street lights
Dimly brighten the pitch-black sky
Sometimes I listen for the rustling of leaves
As the wind passes through them,
The rhythmic sound of a cricket’s chirp,
And the sound of my feet hitting the asphalt
Aimlessly, I roam
Until the early hours of the morning
I never know why
I try to fall asleep, I swear I do
Perhaps it’s my relentless mind
Protecting me from the darkness of my own subconscious
There used to be moments
When watching the sunrise would turn tired moments into pleasurable ones
As drowsy eyes would gaze at the beauty before them
Almost blinded by the bright pink and orange colours
Peeking through along the horizon
Such beauty does not affect me as much
Nor does it impress me anymore
Like most pleasures in life
Watching the sunrise loses its dreamlike thrill
Once it becomes a habit
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