Pillow Fight

Oh, I want to escape you; though, you’re my escape. Pons Varolii signals begin to take shape. I could never determine if white or if black. You pull me to safety and push me right back. You tell me great stories of visions untrue, But at the close of the night demand payment due. I’ve yet to determine a new way to cope. I’m selling my soul for the mere glimpse of hope. All joy that I feel is revealed to be fake. Sleep away sweet, sweet child; may you never awake.