Old English bedreda, from ‘bedd’ bed + ‘-rida’ rider, from rīdan to ride


My Bed is my home. It is my retreat, my sanctuary

My Bed is my default, my norm, my ordinary

My Bed is my raft, my pontoon, my resting place

My Bed is the eye of my storm, the centre of the whirlwind, the wait

My Bed is my comfort, my safe place, my home


My Bed is my prison. It is my torment and my captor

My Bed is my oblivion, my exile, my alone

My Bed is my cement shoe, my constraint, my tether

My Bed is my nightmare, my lost world, my silent scream

It swallows me whole


My Bed is our schoolroom, our cinema, our playroom

It is our dinner table, our concert hall, our library

My Bed is our stage, our set, our worship room

It is the best seat in the house for the greatest show on earth


My Bed is the primary around which we orbit, the anchor that pulls us back

again and again


My Bed is my all

My prison and my home

It is safety and it is shroud

My Bed is rest, my Bed is pain

My Bed is my vessel, my Life is my own.


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