When sleep evades the wakeful mind
And troubles seem to be lingering
In rivers of despair, you’ll find
Your digits will be fingering
Any scrap of cloth or comfort,
Ribbons of hope through pain,
An umbrella of any sort
To shield you from the rain,
The sticky tears of the sky,
The floods of storms weathered
And those yet to pass by,
To our roots we are tethered
And escape lies under a shroud.
We still wait to evade the cloud,
And find sleep.
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