Insomnia drives this short poem, and so does a quiet kind of stubbornness. The speaker describes themselves as the one who always complains, or argues, about never getting sleep. They've tried the obvious fix, pill after pill, yet they end up wide awake anyway. The repetition of "pill after pill" makes the effort feel exhausting and a little hopeless.
The last two lines turn things around. After all that struggle, the speaker says they no longer want to sleep. It's hard to tell exactly why. It might be giving up, a way of saving face after so many failures, or a sign that being awake has started to feel like a choice rather than a defeat. The poem doesn't settle this, and that ambiguity is part of its pull.
The mood is tired, flat and slightly defiant. The short, plain lines mimic a mind that's worn out but still running, and the ending leaves us with a shrug that hides something heavier.