Insomniac Published January 22, 2018 by suprusr 0 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. Related posts: A Brave And Startling Truth On The Pulse Of Morning The Rock Cries Out to Us Today Equality suprusr Published in Poems
