Sleepless nights.

I stared hard.

The ceiling's dark. Where are the stars,

Supposedly to be sparkling in the sky?

Where are the pleasant sounds, coloured gold?

Sandman, sandman, where have you gone?

Why gone, you have, to steal light from others before mine?

I hate to stare.

Like the owl; silent predator of night,

Into the the darkness extreme might.

I despise staring.