When will I meet the sandman?
I hear dreams to be magic,
But how can I truly know,
For as of yet, I’ve had none.

As I lay there every night,
Hugging tight what isn’t there,
The desire invades me.
Waking, good rest eludes me.
While they say sleep heals the mind,
Screams of silence only grow.
There’s some who warn of horrors,
But a nightmare would just prove,
That a dream is possible.

And don’t mistake me for those,
The ones who blame the sandman,
Who stay up all night in hate,
Self-condemning dreamless nights.
I don’t just want a wet dream,
Like the many who partake,
Careless of the sandman’s self.
Will I be judged for wanting,
Even though I’m not like them?

Did I never sleep in school?
Did he teach everyone then?
The world seems to run on dreams.
Their footprints are everywhere.
One’s never inspired me,
Where would I be if one had?
It’s hard to not think of sleep.

I’ve searched for him, all in vain.
I used to hope that would change,
But there are those he evades.
Doubt has drenched me in it claws.
Now an if, and not a when,
I am forever waiting for my first grain of sand.