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Poetic T Feb 2019
Play me a melody
           that I may slumber.

Not to count sheep,
     more like to feed
on the carcass of
                 decaying dreams.

For in the lethargy that consumes
            me knows no awakening.

For the sheep no longer jump
          a cloud they are atop
the earth decaying in the nightmares
                           of life's living  
apprehension.

— The End —