Sleepless Night.

Her body is exhuasted, unaccustomed to this fit of wakefulness.
It is 4 a.m. and she ought to be asleep, but for tonight, sleep has been elusive.
Her mind a wanderer, exploring gardens of paradise and the depths of hell.
She swings between two extremes. A mental torture, this.
Her soul feels strangely empty, after having been filled, like a goblet of wine that runneth over.
How fast she has gone to barren and bare from lush, beautiful and completely full.

Stop, think, sleep.. and stop again.

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