When we, the demon children
Sleep in the afternoons,
We do not dream of unicorns or fairies.
Of your stupid childish wants.
Instead, we dream of something
More beautiful than a thousand suns.
We have nightmares
Where we are the star of the show.
Where we die.
Where we kill.
I could give you a list
Of all my fantasies.
Burn down the world.
Have our own version of Fifty Shades.
Rule Hell.
Seduce hot fictional characters.
Be a someone.
I could go on for hours.
So next time, when you sleep,
Do you just want to be the kid with
A pony or a banquet of chocolate?
Or would you rather
Force the world to notice you,
Be a little mean.
Be the hero of your Dystopian Fantasies.
YOU ARE READING
All Time Low: A Heap Of Hate
PoetryStories I have written. Dark poetry, for when I have a bad day and get irritable. If you can't handle the mind of a sadomasochist who enjoys pain and hatred of all kinds, leave. I don't need bible-lovers telling me I'm sinning, frankly I don't give...
