A little bottle of sleep
White tablets of sleep
Made by careful hands
In white latex gloves
And full hair nets
To keep anything foreign
Out of all the sleep
Poured into every bottle
A bitter foretaste
Of a blank destiny
A measured little dose of death
A sleep that is black and cold
Sleep that is dreamless
And would be worthless
Were it not sleep at least
And so worth every silver grain
Of the ten dollars it cost
To procure these priceless two
Weeks of sleep
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