This Wish

what do you wish for,
when you lay your head to sleep?
do you wish an empty hole
which your treasure keep?
or maybe a new fear,
dug into the chamber
of which blood and love
flow alike?
are these my empty worries?
this inner life i live,
color fading to the walls
of which my ink flows across.
where my words gain breath
only to die when i
close the door to understanding?
or hope in healing?
or maybe i've been given good reason
to which my words fufill.
that this story has no ending,
because the words never lived.
a fleeting life, marks on a page.
yet a better existance than my desolate life.
maybe they find happiness
in this line,
this hand
of shallow fear,
or fearful aprehnsion,
like i am afraid that the real me
is coming out where i try to hide her.