The man died

Sleep is hiding herself away from me

Day and night I search for her, precious sleep

I took a long walk for hours, thinking of nothing

But looking at all the corners, hoping to find her

Yet she was nowhere to be found

At the street corner I bought an old book

With the notion that it will bore me to sleep

At the front it says ” The man Died”, but it didn’t

Say who killed the dead man, so I read further

To find out at the end, that his dream died yet he lived

And I have a dream like the great speaker said

But how can I dream when I don’t sleep

Will I need a dreamer to dream on my behalf

And a dream interpreter to tell me my dreams?

Or will my dreams die like that of the man who died?

The heavier my heart, with my restless thoughts

Time creeps slowly away, with each day still the same

As worries and fear become my dreams

Turning me to a lonely man, with swollen eyes

As sleep turns her back on me and my dreams

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