Dreams no longer bring me peace,
Like in the days After you died.
They show me things with such clarity,
That I awake where I lie.
I dream about a man called 'Death.'
And all the lies realized with youth.
My dreams now bring me cold, hard truth.
...And remind me there's nothing left of you.
I've dreamt that you never met death.
I've dreamt of blood instead of breath.
And I have seen pictures of you,
Nothing left of what I knew.
And somehow what should frighten me...
Comforts...It shouldn't be.
When I dream about how I will die.
And scenes of black buttons for my eyes.
Dreams where I was only fake,
Just someplaster for a face.
And that's what I wish life could be,
But I dream of reality.
And tears will come as I sleep.
Until I wake too scared to weep.
When I think of more loved dead and gone,
I wish that I'd been the one.
What I Dream
These are my dreams, and it's written to my dead best friend...I'm glad she'll never get to read it...Did you like this poem? Write one of your own!
