Under the darkened sky I lay beneath a blanket of soil. The wicked of the world will capture me no more. Under the swollen moon am I, asleep for days on end. The wind hums a lullaby for those who struggle to rest. Between the skeletal trees I stay, not to be disturbed. No nightmares nor no dreams for I; this slumber is a bore. On my sombre bed I rest, not thinking or feeling a thing. If I had known I’d sleep this deep, I would have stayed up more.