They ask me why I sleep so much,
Do they not know?
Have they not seen the world?
The throes of its descent?

The night is an escape,
Sleep is a shroud,
An aegis of unconsciousness,
It protects the spirit in its nocturnal embrace,

As I snore,
The horrors of the world don’t exist,
The gripes of phantoms are inaudible,
And the stink of blight does not stir me,

Am I slothful?
Perhaps,
Yet I don’t sleep for fatigue,
It’s not so plain as that,

I sleep to not be awake.

Comments
  1. Sleep is a gift. Enjoy!

  2. the wake world can do that to people sometimes.

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