PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

To die, to sleep no more,

To wither away in dreams.

O, woe be to the man who loves

But none, yet all love he;

For what option does this man have?

Only to bar from his heart of hearts

All those feelings that he may hold,

To embrace the singularity that is he…



To die, to dream no more,

Yet dream be what he see as right:

Those fair, phantom images

That plague the mindset with distortions,

Things only he true can see to

Be what the fickle heart desires:

Righteousness, happiness, and love,

For all things untainted by reality,

When cruel whip can let slip

Upon the backs of those true.



To die, to wake no more,

View neither wrong nor injustice,

But live untainted, die degraded

To experience eternity in dream,

To slumber in ground under

The feet of those who suffer

Pains of daily agony;

Sheltered forever, disturbed never

By what he considers

To be his insomnia.