This is something I wrestle.
At night, under the darkness, I nestle.
Although I beg for sleep,
Worldly desires snug me tightly.
I complain, I revolt, I beg
For sleep to toss a chance
Then, I look to the Moon.
A Being that fidgets not,
Doesn’t turn its back on us,
Nor its silent promises.
So why do I turn my back
On my promises?
I struggle to gain control
Yet, I drown it below.
The moon teaches a lesson!
I revolt.
So here I am: struggling late night
Dreaming to rest with its light.
Sircharlesthepoet 
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