Poems of a Suicidal Memory

Dreams

Every dream begins with a dreamer,
but me, no, I'm a screamer.
I wake up in my bed,
rubbing my splitting head.
I drink from the cup of insanity,
my dreams are stealing my humanity.
Am I revealed through my dreams?
Is it echoed in my screams?
Will I fall apart at the seams?
That is up to my dreams.
Why do I desire flames?
Need I avert my shames?
Do I crave Hell?
Sound my death knell.
What do my dreams hold for me?
Foreshadowing what I will be?
Someone save me from my head,
before I end up dead.
I had a dream a few nights back,
my mind is on the attack.
It was night, dark and black,
I was walking through a house,
it was quiet as a mouse.
It was damp and dark,
it was next to an abandoned park.
Screams of children ravaged my head,
my mind split from the voices of the dead.
What is wrong with my dreams?
They're killing me it seems.
I walked through the house,
I saw a bloody blouse.
I've seen that blouse before,
I've seen this house before.
I walked up the stairs,
avoiding the stares.
Was surrounded by spirits,
of the ones I held dearest.
I'm a broken mourner,
but I rounded the corner.
I walked down the hall,
I fell,
I began to crawl.
Then I dragged myself up,
drinking from the death cup.
I need more,
but there's a door.
I tried to knock,
needed to pick the lock.
I broke the door down,
in my tears, I drown.
I saw you hanging from a noose,
dammit, why can't I cut you loose?
Your life is over, done.
I run.
Messed up, but that's my head,
I dream of the dead.
My dreams are dark,
they leave a mark,
my soul is tainted,
with the Devil,
I'm acquainted.
I dream of Satan,
I can't awaken.
It's late October,
Satan says come over.
Is Satan really that bad?
So much hate, it's kinda sad.
It's his birthday,
not much to say.
We had murder for fun,
enjoyment from a gun.
He just wanted a friend
to help him with the end.
We killed everyone in sight,
oh what a satanic plight.
Hell on Earth,
Satan's rebirth.
I wake up and smile,
I can't reconcile.
This is who I am,
God damn,
Im a monster.