Soft wind blew my hair away
My face uncovered
Nude and bare.
The cold is pinching my cheeks,
As they slowly flush with blood.
I was floating in mid-air,
Playing god to my own world.
Controlling the ones around me.
Being a shameless super-human.
I want this,
I get this.
I think that,
That happens.
All like ants,
Saving their queen.
Running all over the place.
And then my king approaches.
My ants hurt him,
But they know,
That his hurt,
Is my hurt.
And when the queen is hurt
Wars start.
When the war is lost,
I realise.
I am no queen,
I have a king to care for.
But I am just another ant,
Among all, I am not different.
How can a mere ant
Protect a king
With golden crown
And crystal eyes.
With skin of magic.
With words like spells.
I think I'm all that queen.
That people live to serve me.
But after all I see,
That all I do is serve,
I am a slave to my own head.
YOU ARE READING
Nightmare
PoetryIt's not what it seems it is. Your eyes can lie, a nightmare is everywhere. To anyone who knows me in real life: Yes, I am depressed, yes, I self-harm. But I write this for myself more than for anyone else, if you do decide to read this, I want you...
