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Poetry: Sleep

by Lauraine Andren

"Sleep"

Too hard is this thing called sleep, for when I try I simply weep.

The hours roll by with nary a blink but the hardest thing are those forty winks.

Morning comes and I still have not slept but my pillow is wet from the tears I have wept.

No dreams for me will this night hold ,and morning now comes creeping so bold. Please dear Lord, end this life that is so cold.

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