Soft and warm with just the right amount of bounce,
Rose petal scented, the perfect place for sheep counts.
As a child I believed it to be a spectacular fortress,
To hide in whenever the demons of the dream world fought us.
Shelter and a sanctuary to avoid the night time monster,
A place to ignore my mother when I thought I’d crossed her.
Moving on to my teens it was my own personal heaven,
The worst time of day was when the clock struck seven.
Many days were spent leant back against my pillow, lazing around,
Watching DVDs, frustrating everyone with that incessant typing sound.
When I reached eighteen and the drunken nights started,
It always ended with my face in my pillow, regret for being parted.
And now I’m working day in, day out,
Longing for night time, hearing it shout.
Our hours together can now be counted on one hand,
Barely enough time to fall into that elusive dream land.
Comfort and warmth, shield from the cold winter’s wind,
I hate the sunlight, my nemesis and fiend.
My therapist, my best friend and my lover,
No one can disturb me once I’m under the covers.
That hateful alarm clock, he’s jealous of us.
I’ll smash it one day, though losing my job will cost.
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