I love my bed.
I love how its inviting and comforting warmth on sunny days,
Ideals one of a mother’s embrace.
I love how it consumes me like a blackhole,
Acting as a water absorber on teary days.
I love how it radiates sunshine,
Containing strong springs for gleeful jumps.
But sometimes,
I hate how it can be rather evil.
I hate its heavy chains that restrain me,
Keeping me from escaping its tight grip,
Aiding in my truancy.
Nonetheless,
I love how it soaks up my exhaustion at the end of the day,
Like a desperate and shriveled up sponge.
I love how it transfers surges of energy,
For weary and tiresome days.
It is the origin of late night gossips,
Withholding each and every little secret it hears.
It serves as a safe haven against devilish monsters,
Or simply the world.