You're on watch, you cannot sleep.
Torpor looms as fingers twitch,
Stay up, stay alert
Now is your time.
You mustn't give in to fatigue.

Sterility encapsulates the ironically termed 'living' room,
With beeps and hisses battling for supremacy
In a growingly discordant manner.

Until the living interferes
And proclaims 'No more'.
No more shall rhythmic tunes stake their claim,
No more shall the room of white become stained
With the pain of a world unknown.
No more shall men of Earth be lulled by your faux swan song.

Though, sounds of 'life' carry on.
"You're on watch, you must now sleep"
Purrs a cloaked figure.