Encounter with Sandman

Once upon my childhood,
I used to believe every night,
Dear Mr. Sandman will visit,
Blowing and sprinkling,
Tiny particles of gold dust,
Sending everyone to dreamland,
Fairies and pixies would come out to play,
Dance among the little bluebells,
And tiny red polka dots mushroom,
Under the silvery pale moonlight..

When I was in my teen hood,
I encounter with Mr. Sandman,
Not one, but a few,
Not only males, but females too,
They only exist in the morning,
In a square space,
Surrounded by four walls,
Lined with wooden tables,
There was no moonlight,
Only the shining bright sun above..

There was no gold dust,
But sound waves from their voice box,
No sight of dreamland ahead,
But punishment awaiting,
Only if you absorb the waves,
And fall into their wicked spells
No fairies dancing around,
But a handful of jaded faces..

Ah! Not very pleasant at all,
They lock you in a space,
And cast you sleeping spells,
But they warn you not to sleep,
Too much to bear, too much to endure,
Either battle against it,
Or receive their chastisement,
Be slaves of the morning sandman..
Trapped in between...