Counting Sheep

This is a short s****y piece I wrote tonight while in constant battle with my troubled mind.

Rest my child for night has sprung;

His thoughts will drown you 

with sonnets and rum.

Cry your sweet heart out 

before your brain implodes.

Misery, Misery, transfigure uphold.

Catch the sheep before He appears,

into the barn 

and hide your tears.

Rest my child for He has come;

Ever a glimpse and He’ll slice your tongue.

Stay still and quiet, maybe He’ll get bored.

Don’t think of God or He’ll 

Enclose

the barn, lock the door, kill the sheep one by one,

your prayers are answered, lost and spun.

He’ll wait and He’ll watch until once again,

your fighting, resisting the darken Den

Rest my child for your time is up;

Morning has come, forget the shepherd and bishop.