my dreams are suffering and
sorrow,
struggle and pain,
heartache and helplessness,
empty cauldrons;
just on the edge
of madness;
waking in the
middle of the night,
wasted and worn,
a burned out shell,
remembering a life
that never began,
living a death for which
there is no end,
surrounded by faceless names
without hope;
my dreams are
suffering and sorrow;
broken,
all typed out,
upside down,
inside out,
slapped silly,
smacked senseless,
washed up and
left for dead,
stick a fork in it
broken;
when you’re in
love,
they are in every face,
every smile
every word;
some things are
better
left unsaid.
.
.
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