The Boy in Bed

You are not alone, little boy. Everyone is prone to some kind of darkness, Treating it like a childhood friend: "How could it possibly betray us?"

We share similar stories of descent, Enjoying the illusions we made to cope, Distracting ourselves from the moments Of great awareness—we're running out of hope.

We are being swallowed, one by one, And I beg the heavens to bring those illusions back. Our last stars are gravitating away, Leaving our psyche under attack.

So please stay awake a little longer, young knight. There are familiar creatures creeping in. They all want your soul in aimless saunter, Like the fish that Jonah lived in.

Look up and let's befriend Midnight herself, That perhaps she will calm us down. Don't make the same mistake I did, For I was deceived by a demon with a crown.

Who would have ever thought that Our bedrooms could be a warzone? We are lost children of Ares, And our worn-out bed, our throne.

Just a little more courage, young prince. Take on shapes like thick smoke, For in your sanctuary of a bedroom, The envious monsters outside, you might provoke.

You're shielded and barriered yet vulnerable. You have refuge but not enough strength to fight, For you were tricked into thinking you're weak, By your bad dreams, night after night.

See, open your eyes, dear one. Remember, you are not alone In this doomsday-like period Of isolation that no one could have known.