In the shadows across four corners of my own room,
I flood it up with sorrow and gloom.
Wiping away my depression—
Soft snowy covers of my pillows,
So hot and so cold,
I cringe at the thought,
It lacks flesh and bones,
But it provides a shoulder to cry on,
This comforting foam.

Lying in the embrace of my own bed,
I pray for redemption;
A night that I'd be alone no more,
A day when I'd finally meet my own maker— My GOD and my creator.