Insomnia

The sun rises before my eyes,
It does relieve the tired land,
From the swarming shadows,
Ever so present in the night.

My eyes fixed their gaze,
Upon my untouched bed,
The sheets neatly tucked,
The quilt peacefully rest.

My bed need not be fixed,
For no one had laid there,
The pillow's shape perfect,
No dent of a fellow's head.

The bed hasn't been touched,
By my sick and weary body,
The quilt hasn't been touched,
To relieve my shivering soul.

I remember not the peaceful sleep,
Since the evil angel cursed my soul,
She stunned my mind, stole my peace,
For the ninth year, I have yet to rest.