Soft bushy mane moves from side to side on cotton cloud,
Vague vision dance around on the pink bubbles with no intention of staying behind, ‘Stead leave pitter patter foot steps of colours of love and hatred to taunt you when you wake,

However, nor scared nor assured what to do when in state of your paralysis,

Now, you, in the state would not mind being threatened by nightly visitors,

Who would put chains and shackles on you and would you fight back? You try and try and try and try and try,
but don’t you think deep down that these nightly visitors are just there because you want them to be?

Then again, why not?