He Is Still Watching

I toss. I turn. Winking Sleep impervious to bags crying out for closure. "It`s far too crowded in that bed!" she says. A presence stirs. The presence stares. Watching... Waiting... Watching. Waiting. He goes by many names. Fear is how I address him NO!I lie- I don`t address him at all. He just watches. Some nights, I don`t mind him so. How can I? His the only Friend I've Ever known. He watches over me, Doesn't he? Pulls my timid strings so ventures beyond the edges of the Continent Conservatism I will never dream of. He is a Friend. Right? Maybe, one night: I`ll sever the cords Tradition lashing a fragile back. Send Fear packing. Courage will be my new bed mate. Will Sleep finally come to me? Until then, he will be- Watching... Waiting... Watching. Waiting.