Sleep Is For The Wicked Poem by Justina Blue
Sleep Is For The Wicked
A precious thing sleep a time to get away from lifes inconsistancys
To float in a reality all your own but what happens to sleep when all you
See is a nightmare a time when monsters control your mind
A vision of fear that stops and rewinds
Every night the same dream, same horrific inconsistancys
A reality all your own it may be, just remember
Some monsters aren't only in your dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/29/2026 8:07:40 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
