The sleepiness hides out behind my eyes
And worries its dark way into my brain;
It turns and hits me with a mild surprise
To realize the source of all that pain
Is simply that my eyes are open wide
And not extinguished as they ought to be;
I thought that it should be something inside
Some deep and twisted hurt or memory,
Or else a wound that I could see bleed out,
A sore, a scrape, a scratch to bandage tight
An ache, an ague, an arthritic gout,
Or something else to keep me up all night
But no, the very fact of wakefulness
Has strength enough to cause this pain and stress.
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