My bitter friend,
For when I'm sleeping,
I am not angry,
I am not lonely,
I am not sad.
I'm just me.
Slumber is not my trouble,
But waking to the nightmare existence that I live,
To which I must concede.
My dreams are of you,
Playing,
     Laughing,
          Running,
               Happy,
                     Smiling...
And WAKING to....
                                         NOTHING...
A hole in my heart,
                                              NOTHING...
E­mptiness in my arms where your head used to lay...
                                                          ­NOTHING!!
Who really NEEDS sleep?
It's getting old anyway....