Wake
and live no dream
that sleep,
perchance, could give you.
Stand tall
and wave goodbye, you.
Fall down
and wait to die, you.
Abandon
real thoughts
and pray;
Pray to God
they don't find you.
Pray that somehow
they'll bind you
to what you can't let go.
An angel made of snow;
alone, lies still, unbreathing.
Fact and fiction are teething:
preparing
for the battle to come,
and knowing
it could mean the end,
and seeing
what should be a friend,
as sleep kills
the memory.
A memory,
real or imagined?
So dull,
it can't be distinguished.
Look to the stars,
remember what you wished;
though you sense
it can never be.
Comments
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this is beautiful
really -
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thank you.
=]
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