Dreams of Nigh by Whispers
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I keep having this peculiar, odd little dream.
All around me - the walls were tethering.
Torn apart by the existence of simplistic greed.
Isn't it natural to desire normal or similar things?
I dreamt of a world encased within ash.
Exploding apart like tensioned, mirrored glass.
Thrusting it's microscopic shards upon my flesh.
Meant to tear me apart to expose my past.
I dreamt of a deeper loss, so profound.
Even the overwhelmed made not a sound.
The shatters of dreams littered the ground.
And I was left with this emptiness all around.
I dreamt that reality no longer could transpire.
Like pages of a book thrust into a blazing fire.
Laundering out the broken ties upon the pyre.
And I? I was to burned apart for my desire.
I dreamt I stood before a pool of my own sin.
Every moment displayed a new transgression.
Starting from the most innocent obsession.
And the base of them all were my professions.
I dreamt that all hearts had become tarnished.
Words like knives to rip through my flesh.
To pull, from within, this heart from my chest.
To take their pieces, alone, of my sacred crest.
I dreamt of being judged upon lack compassion.
A young girl who'd become her own combustion.
Allowed her facade to be blamed for rejection.
Yet, she was to blame for her conformation.
Yes, I dreamt a peculiar little dream.
The kind where you don't feel like can be relieved.
Where you can't find strength to begin or believe.
But, in the end, I still found myself waking.
The message is clear to the naked eye.
My dreams have become worse of nigh.
Leaving puzzles too complex for you or I.
Forgive me once more, Father, for my sinful blight.
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Plagiarism is a Crime.
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