O my sleeping child;
Lying on demise cradle tonight
In a primal blackout mild
Like a deary pulseless Wight.

My fret heart beat thee goodnight
With thick raw and sore throb of pain
Deeply pulsating from a very uptight;
Day in and out, this I can't abstain.

O my sleeping child;
Catching fallen dreams
That seems beguiled,
On a severe bed in dark seams.

Wailing me, boohooing ocean
Running down my swollen face
When tie hung thee with devotion
Up the ceiling in high apace.

O my sleeping child
Catch peace and not pieces
In thy dream that is piled
Up with breathless sand lees.

Copyright © 2020 by Okosuns Christopher

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