Sleep is for the weary
Dark
Dank
Dreary
Days and days of nothingness
And my imagination writhes alive
Becoming far too busy with peculiarities
That I have no excuse for
Here
On a bed
In a room
Behind locks and locks and locks
In a country torn by civil strife and cultural unrest
And general dissatisfaction
My mind wanders again
It wanders home.
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