An Unseen Privilege Options

[*CrackedRearView*]

Of the very few things I've been able to correctly do today, writing hasn't been one of them.

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An Unseen Privilege

It’s a common cliché, but one that holds cogency;
Much like my grandmother would say ingenuously:
“People take too many things for granted.”
But contrary to the prevalent unnoticed objects that validate this cliché,
Sleep just isn’t money, it’s not shelter, it’s not family, and it’s not food.
Sleep: dormancy, torpidity, slumber, quiescence; it’s always there at your disposal,
It’s one of the most easily achieved forms of gratification, and it’s so neglected.
So forgotten is the ability to wear yourself thin, wading in the world’s injurious trouble,
Lay your head, which enshrouds everything deplorable to be liberated in dreams for others to inhale, gingerly on your pillow, and slip into a feathery coma.
And to wake up in the morning with a lucid demeanor,
To wade once more into society’s thick poison,
And to be refreshed while such filth erodes your foundation is an unseen privilege.