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Feb 2015
You, like myself, are not upright,
You're awake in bed, like every night.
As the night grows old,
the dawn is young, but your time asleep, is yet none.

When your head hits the pillow, thoughts burst forth,
Burying your mind,
Like snow of the North.

So turn off your phone and go to sleep,
Because the snow is only so deep.

Goodbye.
Thanks for reading and feel free to comment.
Written by
James Braukson
408
   Emily Jones
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