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Liberation of Text
Oh what a night, the cat jumped o’er the moon,
With school, a prom, and graduation near,
A sleepless night ahead lies in my room,
Perhaps the counting sheep could ease my fear,
While tossing ‘round I cannot find a spot,
Too soft, too hard, too warm, my bed, so bleak,
I could only think of my next class plot,
The clock was ticking surely next I’ll shriek,
I start to write and soon my head is free,
But finally a turn of a pillow,
My thoughts so pure removed of all debris,
A cloud of imagination bellows,
The battle’s won, the artists can now rest,
A humbled nights’ sleep is surely the best.
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