top of page
Insomnia
Years grow short
Nights long
Words not said, deeds undone
I turn, whisper, as daylight creeps:
"I did my best" —
Knowing already that you're asleep
bottom of page
Insomnia
Years grow short
Nights long
Words not said, deeds undone
I turn, whisper, as daylight creeps:
"I did my best" —
Knowing already that you're asleep