I wonder when the nightmares will end.
Not too soon, I don't think.
Maybe this nightmare is just a collection of fabrications that I wish to happen but will never.
Maybe it's just a dream.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Just something within my mind that captures an altered beauty of this world.
Maybe inside these dreams I could make things different for her and I.
Maybe in those dreams 7th grade didn't happen.
I wish I could turn those memories off and forget them, but for some reason they're bound to my heart.
Like the 5 years were worth the pain, but not worth the burned images in my head.
I mention you too much but I'm trying to write you to death so I can finally relieve myself of this past.
Fuck.
I know that once my brain shuts off and I enter that state of subconscious
I am invincible.
Strangely enough I've killed people.
Been part of SWAT raids.
Flown planes and helicopters.
Bungee jumped.
Escaped prison.
Been a guinnea pig in a company's obstacle course.
Fixed history.
But most importantly, I was able to show myself a life worth living.
Strange isn't it?
Of all of the things that my dreams have showed me, it was a life worth living.
I was shown death to varying degrees.
Met with death and violence in all aspects.
But I've mainly been shown a life to live.
I wonder why.
It's like my subconscious knows that I have ties to Death himself, but still shows a different idea.
Maybe I'm still dreaming.
YOU ARE READING
Dreams Over Reality
PoetryA compliation of poems and skits. The skits are no longer being continued. Most poems are about me and the events around me. Read my story This is my story.
