Ceiling Chirp

Three seventeen, the clock on the wall,

and then that high-pitched, insistent call.

A single chirp, from the ceiling's white round,

a tiny red flash, without a sound

except that awful, small, sharp 'peep'

that drills right into your shallow sleep.

It pauses, then starts, a relentless beat,

making the silence feel incomplete.

I pull the pillow, tight on my head,

wishing that battery was finally dead.

But it just keeps on, a tiny, loud drone,

and I'm wide awake now, completely alone.