Apologies in advance for linguistic abuses,
But I can’t figure out where the Hell my muse is.
Perhaps she visits when I dreaming,
In which case, I’ll see her never, it’s seeming.
Some people thing sometimes find sleep difficult;
I’d rather be slung from a catapult
Than face another sleepless vista
And thus, the sleep that’s missed–ah
Will surely make you list
a bit to the right,
and a little downwards,
with a sideways shake
to show you sort-of meant to drink.