Here is my first, and almost certain failure of a terza rima poem:

(3-2-1 Poem for 4/28)

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Insomnia

like a silent gnome, sleep creeps night

a careful cat creeps on the window sill

eyes open, I stare. But why?

a hot balloon, my mind does fill

teeter into dreamland slipping

nightmare figures provoke a shrill

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For those of you that don't know what insomnia is: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Insomnia