toss and turn

You’ve heard that insomniacs swear by rain
But that’s when your thoughts go insane. It’s a strain
To tame them. No use being gentle or stern,
So you master the art of your toss and your turn.

All night you perfect this impressive routine,
Unable to stop, like a mutinous teen.
The rain falls behind, then it picks up the pace.
The night stretches on with the vastness of space.

The harder the rain, the remoter the sleep,
The faster the thoughts in your head hop and leap.
Your life is so far from a park and a stroll,
No wonder your thoughts are so hard to control.

You’ve lived for so long it just weighs on your brain.
You feel insignificant next to this rain
That’s genius both as a king and a clown.
You sigh as you expertly put yourself down.

It’s pointless to sulk, and it’s childish to pout.
You’ve mastered two things you can boast about:
Come morning, there won’t be a soul who could spurn
Your excellent toss and your exquisite turn.