So Late That It's Early

This is my first blog entry, and it is a poem I composed a couple of months ago. Feed back would be much welcomed!

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So Late That It's Early

It's now so late that it's early;
Darkest light's now morning grey;
Cricket chirrup and owl hoot,
Replaced by birdsong, heralding day.

Yet still I'm awake.
Not a yawn do I make.
I am always awake.

I hear the first cars lumber past;
Bleary eyed drivers don't go so fast:
They're too weak to keep in control,
Plus they starve, having had to skip breakfast.

It's got to a stage
That sleep's vast shortage
Shapes a poorly image.

Tic-toc clucks the clock, on and on;
Seconds, minutes, hours: forever gone;
Whilst I mope around aimlessly,
Sleepless, asking the clock "When is dawn?"

What's a dream again?
I think I've forgotten;
They're stuff of legend.

I can't even think straight - how ridiculous:
Am I asleep or awake, is it early or late?
A nod of my head confirms I'm conscious.
Something went wrong there that I'm too tired to suss.

Eye lids droop down,
In drowsiness, still unfound:
A road to dream town.