The midnight hour chimes, yet slumber flees 
My restless mind, a tempest in the night, 
Consumed by thoughts that rapid-fire and tease, 
Refusing rest despite the darkness’ blight.

The siren’s call of glowing screens enchants, 
Luring me deeper into their bright thrall,
While precious moments swiftly fade to haunts 
Of could-have-beens that softly mock and call.

Yet still I linger, chasing phantoms’ trails, 
Ignoring waking life’s approaching needs, 
Trading weariness for transient tales 
Spun from the mind’s insistent, willful deeds. 

When next the sun ascends with golden grace, 
Exhaustion’s toll shall etch upon my face.