Daytime troubles come to me
Sometimes as a million fleas
Other times as a tingling in my head
Like a bull reacts to the color of red
It’s not a battering, beating drum
But a slight silent pure pitched hum
The day progresses and troubles pile up
Like a car as it climbs a large space bump
It is piled up in a large heap
Drumming to the force of a large heartbeat
All of them trying to escape from their prison
They keep digging and pounding for a clear reason
To finally escape
The confinements of the brain
Then I find my sleep
And a peacefulness to reap
To force out the annoyances of a day so filled
With the piling up of troubles so milled
Peacefulness at last.