Insomniac – Maya Angelou

I never knew that this poem existed; yet another reason to love the poet that was Maya Angelou. Insomnia and I are lifelong friends, seriously. I can remember being five or six and wondering why I was awake. So I would read. Sleep does not now nor has it ever loved me. Thank goodness that I have things to do and watch when it robs me of its presence and I am forever grateful for those who understand.

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There are some nights when
sleep plays coy,
aloof and disdainful.
And all the wiles
that I employ to win
its service to my side
are useless as wounded pride,
and much more painful.

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