Slumber Poem by John Kipling Lewis

Slumber, slumber, sleep eludes my soul
and physically i roll from womb to doom.

Crazy, crazy, not so lazy, but thoughts
of life are all of strife and
i am just so old.

Awake, a wake, the more i try to move
the harder it is to prove
that i'm alive.

Pain and sleep, pain and sleet,
or rain for me to watch and wonder,
who owes me for what i've done
and who pays when i'm out run?

Green, green, as a summer grass,
freshly cut and looking sharp as
razor blades or a looking glass
shattered into shards.

But where are the hopeful days,
where are those childhoods, why
do I feel so lost and...