What's that called I don't remember?
The darkness that creeps up
At night,
In slumber.
In the sudden loss of light.
Even though it's dark here,
I still close my lids to sleep
To grant a wish,
To dive in deep.
Where some cry, most weep.
What's that called when
We tuck ourselves in the bed?
Sing to our ears,
Mourn for what's dead.
In the deep corners of our blanket.
What's the broken thing laying with me?
Oh I remember!
It's the wry thing called a dream.