stop.
like a whimsical ride.
it feels so right
but looks so wrong.
twisting and turning.
bright lights among
black and white.
the story is correct
but the characters are a mess.
I said I wanted the bride to die
not the dead to be a bride.
take him,
the one I look up to
put him in a hole until
he turns mad.
maybe then I shall wake
from this darling nightmare.
have you ever had a dream,
my dear,
where everything was rather odd?
the storyline is a dream,
but the setting is a fog?
nothing is quite right.
heart beats racing,
love chasing,
anticipating
what?
my dear,
it is just a beautiful horror show.
mirrors that turn the image foggy.
put the parts back together
and pray it grows again.
your dream is slipping
reality fleeting
imagination tyranny.
my dear,
nothing is quite right,
yet it has only just begun.
c.d.
a/n: inspired by my love for Tim Burton movies. Got this idea as I was watching my personal favorite, Beetlejuice. By the way, extra points if you understand the title.
YOU ARE READING
1:46 a.m.
PoetryA collection of poems, most written at extremely late, or should I say extremely early, times of the day, when my mind can truly bleed its thoughts onto paper.
