silent whispers of insomnia.

When I lose sleep to thoughts that pain,

I listen to the silence of my troubled mind,

the moon shining with dullness of it's kind-

enticing a trace of sleep I do strain.

Dogs maybe wagging tails at the unseen,

not barking-

at the empty skies staring

they too humbled to silence of a deserted bin.

Trees maybe shaking lazily,

they aren't whistling with satisfaction,

they too consigned to oblivion-

like me, drowning in thoughts, sadly.

I, the moon, and the silent abyss arms interlocked,

to silent whispers of insomnia we're chained.

© Bunguswa ™