Sleep doesn't come in the summer when it's hot.
You lie there
Waiting for it to come, like it always does.
But instead you are left to argue with the sheets.
Are my eyes open or closed?
All I see are scenes played out on the blackness.
When it comes, it sneaks in.
The dreams are unsettling,
So real, you swear they are.
Then you're awake again, and hot
Because the sun's already up
And the shade trees are gone
And all you want is a peaceful sleep.
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