Try as I might, I'm unable to sleep, with an urge to scream, an urge to weep. The spreading of crimson, the deepest of reds. The spreading of blood on the coldest of beds. The terror of night that haunts my dreams. The fear of death, the loudest of screams. Sleep evades me, as I try not to cry. For the void comes with sleep, and I'm not ready to die.
