I grew up with sheep following me to sleep.
They comfort my wellbeing with soft woolliness.
1 sheep... 2 sheep... I fall asleep in soothing silence.
Nothingness goes by in a sleeting of black droplets wrapping me in a home called warmth and safety.
Mediocrity pulsates through the inked rain silencing night.
Sceneries from my memories resound a concert of a story.
These storytellers tall tale a movie that is my past or future.
Because presently I am dreaming of the history or prophecy of me.
The stories interchange with various blackouts and movies.
Some nights the fantasy movies turn into horrors
Jumping me from my resting state to the reality of my dark bedroom.
Some moon days, I can't go home and takes longer to get there.
Some moon days, I'm too scared that I don't want to go home.
I do know this home is a hotel not an estate away from the.
It's now sunrise and I wake up to a baby's sunshine.
Sometimes I don't want to and sometimes I want to.
The greenery are coated with a misty veil
Reflecting an anonymous day that is to come.
