Let me tell you a bedtime story.
A story which began a long long time ago
In a faraway place, hidden deep inside
Called the heart.
The heart led a happy life:
It would be happy as long as it listened
To her wise mother’s words, “Dear Heart,
Never visit your ugly neighbour, Memory”.
But one day Heart leapt across the gate
And paid a visit to Memory,
And this bedtime story is about
The sad results of this visit.
This is a story about happy eyes
That turned dull, of smiles frozen,
Of days that dragged by, of
Forgettable people and fleeting joys.
This is a story of numbness
And an all surprassing loneliness:
Of dejection, and a constant
Dull ache right below the skin.
It’s about always feeling cold,
The tips of your fingers constantly freezing,
About laughter and words sounding distant
And never experiencing a moment of silence.
Oh, do you not want to hear this story?
Then go to sleep, darling. But remember,
Sleep isn’t a safe place anymore;
That’s where those hands always find you.