Pressures Poem by jayne jenkins

In the dark recesses of the silent mind,
Sleep comes creeping near.
With gentle strokes he calms each nerve
And blots out any fear.

To most he is a welcome guest,
For some, their fate he'll cast,
He'll torture others with ridicule
And drag back what was past.

Sleep for me is a difficult act
Where I sometimes play no role,
As the pressures of the modern world
Keep tearing at my soul.

But sleep will try to conquer all
Offering solace as my prize,
To tempt, and tease and tantalise
And softly close my eyes.