Painting the scene of a distant dream
As the silent hours pass and our minds sink into nothingness
Our eyes closed and bodies
Breath even and deep
Comfortable while unconscious
But senses still intact
Nothing ensures the fact that we will wake alive
It is not until our eyes flutter open and we are surrounded by sounds
Of everyday life that the fact is
We're living
But how long will our minds go peacefully asleep
When we might not even wake
YOU ARE READING
Beautifully Tragic
PoesíaPeople say that dreams come true but forgot to mention nightmares are dreams too. - Oscar Wilde A book of my poetry
