Don't judge me too harshly for this. I'm telling you now that it will having to do with Shakespeare... I guess it's a sonnet on dreaming and sleep paralysis.
The moon's become a fickle friend.
Some nights are full of glorious peace,
And others never seem to end.
Insomnia, I ask that you disist and cease.
And yet when dreams my mind evokes
It feels like years in worlds abstract.
This rush of wonder an anthem provokes,
A song which holds this sense intact.
Yet there are times I can't escape
The confines of my nightly cell.
A ghostly bind holds tight like tape
My arms and legs, they can't rebel.
Though paralyzed in this brief fright,
The sleep is sleep, and that's just all right.
Meh... not bad.
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