"Sleep Forever" is four short lines of exhaustion. The speaker begins with something ordinary, the annoyance of waking up early every day, and quickly moves to something much heavier: a wish to sleep forever. That jump is what gives the poem its weight. The small complaint about mornings turns out to be the surface of a deeper tiredness.
The last two lines say it plainly. The speaker wants to forget and doesn't want to suffer anymore. Nothing explains what the pain is, and the poem doesn't try to. That silence makes it feel raw and honest, like someone saying out loud what they can't say easily to anyone else. Repeating "I want" and "I don't want" gives the poem a flat, worn-down rhythm, with no imagery to soften it.
The mood is bleak, weary, and quiet. "Sleep forever" can be read as a longing for rest, but also as a wish to escape life itself. If a poem like this feels close to your own thoughts, it's worth talking to someone you trust.