Insomnia, Shay

I crawled into the space made by the pillow cover's tear
where the thread had pulled away
I pressed my face into the batting
cotton-wool against my cheek
Just a girl, not yet asleep, inside a pillow case
Where once there was a restful night
a dream of dreams to come
There left behind
in fun, in play
a tattered cloth round a tattered face
Both spent and threadbare lay
Each thread a sigh, of laughter old
Younger than today
Wound about
Creep, sprawling round for time
where I no longer lay
So, sleeping lie
The child dies
And I am left, and left behind
Inside a pillow case/