sweet dreams and sickly lies,
give me hope that someday
one day
it may grow better
the thoughts that are woven into my skull crack,
they crack and smack and splat all over fields of dust and cotton-candy,
for thought such as this cannot be envisioned.
its precipice inclines me to waltz over the side in a haze of lullabies and goodbyes that were once not said
foolish ways that say and foolish i am
these dreams of mine leave me to wonder
maybe i should wonder
about all that could be and once was and what will and why won't it
cursed poems of heartache ring out through my skull,
telling me to stop.
to stop dreaming
to stop hoping of this fantasy that edges me closer to certain said ache.
what do i say of this?
for sweet dreams and sickly lies; i respectively give you a welcoming and a demise.
cause maybe i shall live in a world where all that is said can be done
and all that is despised won't ever come.
just maybe, maybe we have to do a bit more growing to ever hope to get somewhere,
i might be ready to grow.
