Lullaby

Shall i stay or go

Through the door

Will the pen to flow

Watch the stars

Sleep's a chore



The moon is growing cold

It hangs like a sliver of tin

How do our dreams unfold

And why are my bones feeling thin



I watch my pen as though

My fingers could shatter like icicles

And before my eyes

Lie glittering and useless on a field of snow








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