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The sleep is evasive,
tiredness pervasive,
constant struggle,
small rebounds to get instantly pummeled.
Body and mind lambasted,
frustration makes haste,
what is peace is what is wasted.

Waste is not a want of mine,
more contingent to lack of time.
Peace of my mind is,
a piece of my time,
and time can be of the burdening kind.

If only the speed of light surpassed,
is how we'd last and last, time
would stop, and work not we would,
until drop us down, forever it would
take for where we're bound.

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