sleep come


sleep come

sleep, where is thy maiden hand?
why do you run from me?
my day has been long and grand
and now i desire thee, sleep

My pain has been great
My heart has been broken
sleep, come to me
give me peace, your token

as i lay awake in bed
i cry out for you
the thought of sleep inside my head
its all i can do

To not take a knife to my broken heart
To take a razor to my weary wrists
To put a bullet through my conflicted head
come sleep, lay in my bed

i pray the Lord my soul to keep
kill me quickly, in my sleep

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Poetry is what is lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

crazydude’s Poems (14)

Title Comments
Title Comments
The Demon I Adore 0
You 1
i am the night 4
Choose Me! 1
choices 1
Onward 0
We Thank You 1
sleep come 0
take wing, my heart 2
Broken 0
What have we here? 1
Seek, My Love 0
Desire 1
the story of the lost child 4