sleeper

he'd always been a sleeper to that he would admit never less than 8 a night and then he'd snooze a bit his love of sleep found him sleeping more 9, 10, 11 the alarm was useless to him his dreams were that of heaven but his health began to suffer his weight began to slip napping more, eating less his mind had lost it's grip he checked in with his doctor then a sleep disorder shrink they gave him meds and special beds useless so he began to drink 11 turned to 12 and twelve to 17 he only woke to have a drink in the wasted time between tuesdays were quickly fridays just blurs when he awoke catch his ghostly figure in the bathroom as he'd choke the gap was slowly closing the last stitch in the seam he'd stepped into his perfect story his neverending dream they found him with a book of poems and a grin though he'd been taken he'd circled in ink the final passage 'never to awaken'

Deckard

I began writing poetry when I was a teenager and it truly saved me from a destructive path. 'Time Heals' will be on my grave stone'. I have 3 incredible kids who are the greatest gifts that God has given me. If I have advice to give to aspiring...

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