Prescribed their words become like meds
Where bed rest seems and thought of less
The need to write once more becomes
This place of refuge where writes bar none
Pieces written, sleep walkers daydream
Some obscure while others seem
To confess without regrets
Lament and joy their take no less
Their presence here at all hours
Becomes of them both sweet and sour
For sleep deprived a soul searches
A place to leave their inner churches
They come to place another write
At all hours of the night
Refusing to return to bed
For here is where their soul has led
Leaving once more a piece of them
Before the sandman returns again
Awake some tire of life mundane
But here all dreams end not the same
