I Must Not Sleep
It is gentle in its caress. It tells me that it is a friend, and has been with me for many years.
It is gentle in its caress. It whispers to me, and asks me to let in its cold.
It is gentle in its caress. It urges me to sleep, I will soon forget the harsh light of day.
It is gentle in its caress. It brings quiet to the one within, even as she bellows and thrashes in the deep.
It is gentle in its caress. It tells me it is so, and it would never lie.
It is gentle in its caress. It insists it is so, even as my lungs burn.
It is a liar, and no peace will be found in its gentle caress.
In its suffocation.
In its cold.