If I told you my dreams, Would you believe them? Would you tell me I'm lying, Or that I'm condemned? Well, let me tell you, Loud and clear, What thoughts of mine, Linger so dear...
As I fall faster and faster, I feel such bliss. And I sink deeper and deeper, Into an abyss.
I finally hit the ground, Hard but with no pain; My vision has gone black for a moment, Am I dead?
No, I'm not, But I'm waiting to be; I'm crying for help, Can't you see?
I look around me, To see what I can; Just to find a room, Like a sea with no land.
Nooses were hanging from the ceilings, And blades covered the desks and drawers; A loaded gun lay on the bed, And pills covered the floor.
My hands started shaking, My body went numb; As I read what was on the wall, Written in someone's blood:
"Die lonely child, No one wants you alive, We can't hear your cries or see your tears. Die lonely child, No one wants you here."
It seems I can't control my body, My actions are short and choppy. The image of my well-being, Resembles that of a photocopy. Not living nor existent, I don't know what to think anymore.
I stumble over to the desk, Not able to control myself against the risks. I grab the sharpest blade, And begin to slit my wrists. The demon that's controlling me knows I'm not dead, So he gets angrier and angrier, And tries again.
I fall to my knees, Out of a depression that kills. I wipe away the tears from my eyes, And pop a handful of pills. But, even though I'm dizzy, I'm still not dead, And that demon is angry out of his head.
I rise up shakily to my feet, And reach my hand above me. A noose forms its way around my neck, And tightens itself as much as it can be.
Somehow I find the power, To shrivel out of its hold; For a very brief moment, I feel sort of bold.
That demon is furious, Yelling and stomping. But, he finds a new way to control me, Bearing a smile that's taunting.
I'm starting to fear, What he'll do next, As I remember, What was laying on the bed.
Weakly, I stagger slowly, Over to the bed. I grab the gun, And point it to my head.
I squeeze my eyes shut, As away I want to fly. Butk I know it's no use, So I say my last goodbyes.
Finger placed on the trigger, I take my final breath, And that demon knows, He led me certain death.
My eyes shoot open, The teacher stares at me. I try to catch my breath, What was that supposed to be?
I realize it was just a nightmare, So I take out a paper and pen. I write down what I saw, What I did, and where I'd been.
So, I told you these dreams, Do you believe them? Will you tell me I'm lying, Or that I'm condemned? Well, I told you, Loud and clear, What thoughts of mine, Linger so dear...
YOU ARE READING
The Dream
PoetryA poem about someone who has a dream that they killed themselves. They blame it on a demon, but is the 'demon' to blame?