The clock. 

In the day you may not hear it.

But in the night let this be known.

Any time you may be stuck awake,

It may seem the sound has grown.

 

The endless ticking.

One second after the next.

What feels like hours are minutes.

Since the last time you've checked.

 

Your heart beat.

Pounding up against your chest.

You’re not doing anything yet it races,

keeping you from getting rest.

 

After a while you’ll start the heart it.

Same as if you were using a stethoscope.

Counting the beats as if counting sheep.

But sleeping, still no hope.

 

The famous sound of silence.

You know that ringing in your ear?

When all other sounds are absent,

that’s what you’re gonna hear.

 

The voice inside your head.

You can perceive it however faint.

It’s there often when unwanted.

To shut it out, it would be a saint.

 

Too weary to sleep

but it’s what you wish to devour.

Not the ticking, the voice, the heart beat, the silence,

That are the sounds of the late hour.