to my bed

The crows wake me up each morning, I beckon them to let me sleep.
MY pillow carries the tales, cold and empty without a head.
My sheets carry warmth, but not enough to lull me to sleep.
My bed is a haunted house, my mind is the phantoms in its walls.

If you asked my bed, what it thought of me,
I’m pretty sure It would think heavily of me.
For i have misused it, and have not shed a sleeping eye in its make.
If you asked it what happens at night, I’m sure it would start with something like this.

“When she began to lay in my arms, she used to sleep like it was nothing.
I filled her head with the brown, prancing ponies or the dancing sunflowers in the wind.
She used to find comfort in the warmth I gave out, by giving me the gift of making me each morning.
But something happened to the precious sunshine i used to hold, she dimmed and stirred at night.

Her mind was plagued with monsters i tried to rid, but no amount of her past happiness could cure her.
At night she became a monster, my pillow became too cold.
At night she stared at a digital screen, communicating with beasts.
Reading stories that plagued her subway of a mind, watching videos that did little to no good at pacifying the trains.

I’ve watched the brighlty lit, gigantic, overcrowded trains take off, ‘Anxiety 1 takes off in 10 seconds, hurry before the doors close..’
Her mind continues to overcrowd with the worst, my friend brain can’t convince her.
Can’t convince her to get help, can’t convince her to lay down.
She ignores my pleads with dark walls, i’m astonshed at her choice of words.

Like a teenage daughter to her child, she started to disrgard me for something else.
She began to call the dark, shallow, lifess, cold, dark home, and me just the house she grew up in.
I knew, when she was young, that there would come a time like this, but I prayed it would wait til she married and left.
The day I gave her up, to find happiness in their arms.

Hoping the bed she layed in next knew her need to slepp on the right, or her nighlty tossing and turning.
Or would it watch and envelop her with warmth on the nights stressed overwhelmed her, and she wouldn’t lay her head down.
Would the sheets know she liked them soft, and the blankets to be weighted and warm by the time she jumped in bed.
Would it know when she gets cuddled by her lover, that she likes to lay on the left,
Next to his right shoulder.

I worry for my daughter, each and every night.
But i’ll never say something bad about her, becuase I love her endlessly.
Even in her clumsiness, spilled Sprite and melted chocolate stains.
I hope it won’t be too mad.

Even when she leaves my fluffed pillow cold, because of her nightly rants inside,
When she throws off the covers and just sits, leaving me bare and frozen.
I love her till the day she gives me up, the day she finds another.
For she is my human, my daughter”

If only we knew what our beds really thought of us,
Maybe our insomnia could be cured. Just Like That.