My bed has absorbed my tears and wiped my cheeks dry as I have fallen asleep.
And for this I cherish my bed.

My bed has told me that it's moulded to the shape of my body so that the mattress can keep me warm from the cold, harsh winter.
And for this I'm grateful to my bed.

My bed has been all I've ever really known.
And for this I worship my bed.

But it never told me that it wouldn't ever let me go.
It never told me that it would make it harder to pull myself out.
It never told me that I would only sink further into its hold.