I could let myself go.
I would be shot.
But it would be over.
Since I had lost my faith in god
I did not know where I would go
But I know I would not be in heaven
Good lord I know.
I cursed his name,
When I cried out in pain.
And even when faced with death
I tell myself that my god was to blame.
I could just stop running.
And a bullet would end my march.
My run. My trek.  
My endless march.
This snowy march.
Frostbitten feet.
I knew they were blue.
But of pain I couldn’t speak.
I did not speak,
Because I could not feel.
I was numb to all that was real.
Or maybe it was just the cold.
A medical reason that i could not feel.
Or had my mind been made so numb,
So that I could continue on this fate I’ve won.
This fate of earned by following faith.
Faith in a god who alone is the very reason I am in this place.
The fact that I could no longer exist,
It fascinated me.
I could just stop running.
I would cease to be.
This thought enveloped me.
Shocked me.
Stuck to me like glue.
The idea of dying, itself, was nothing new.
It’s just never something,
I thought I would wish upon myself so soon.
I could just give up.
And end my pain.
But that would be so very vain.
Because, my father, he could not press on,
If he knew I would soon be gone.
And so for him,
I drag me feet,
Across this snow,
Through wind and sleet.
I’m almost completely numb,
But my father’s heart still beats.
He is the reason I stay alive.

I walk through life with open arms,
Catching all the rage, and anger and pain.
I don’t try to block emotions that are true,
It’s just something that I’ve always seemed to do.
I might seem quiet or shy,
Well not shy, but closed.
Shielding my own emotions,
That I don’t want others to know.
I’m a blank book.
I want answers and words
I crave emotions and purpose.
I strive to be heard.
I have so much to say,
But I don’t want to be judged
Because of silly questions,
Seemingly misguided pretensions.
I just want to learn.
I want to know you
How you feel.
How you think.
If as a baby you were washed in the sink.
These things might seem venial to you,
But emotions and experience,
They are what you always know to be true.
Even what’s in books I do not believe.
Yeah, sure I might surfacely perceive.
But knowing and believing are two very different things.
There’s knowledge and information.
Theres feeling and soul.
Theres what you learn in school,
But that kind of knowledge is not my goal.
Temporary fulfillment and satisfaction,
From praise and worldly choice of action.
But that’s not what I want.
Not truly what I crave.
I want something substantial,
Something personal with age.
I might write poems about death and fear
Or love and power, a glistening tear.
And sometimes I admit,
They are just words,
And sometimes my poems are rather absurd,
But for the most part,
I write about how I am feeling,
About life’s complications,
And how I am dealing.
I might come off as gleaming and happy
When inside I’m enraged.
Or insincere,
When my feelings can’t be described by words on a page.
I might seem angry when really I’m scared.
Facadely confident, but really disbelieving and bare.
Embarrassed when inside I’m just shy.
Inspired when I’m really bone dry.
Enthralled when I’m extremely appalled.
To seem so knowing,
When inside I am lost,
Sometimes I can’t even translate my own thoughts.
Awkward because I’m showing you me,
And that’s someone who I’m petrified for you to see.
I’m shaking right now, because I’m so struck with emotion,
I love writing and speaking and poetry in motion.
And I’m honestly sick of superficial devotion.
What does it matter?
All those words written down,
When there’s no feeling inside in which to drown.
I could get up here and speak for hours about whatever you want,
But I’d be empty and you’d be bored with my personally unconnected front.
Okay, fine.
Fake tears.
A sigh inserted.
Personification of... whatever.
It doesn’t matter.
Well written but lacking emotion.
In all sincerity, if this is why you write,
Stop.
In the end It doesn’t matter.
You’ll end up published, maybe,
In some periodicals or maybe even have your own book.
That’s all great.
But where does that leave you?
Empty. Unsatisfied. Void of purpose.
I want to leave my mark on more than just the surface.
I yearn to get inside your head,
Make you think when you can’t sleep,
And tossing in bed.
I’m beginning to see the worthlessness in worldly gratification
And though I might still write for fun and meaningless narration,
Those are not the works I wish to share,
They’re simply just there.
Stolid in meaning and interpretation
Entertainment and trivial exaggeration.
Out of all the poems I have written thru now,
This is most me, still closed, but seemingly loud.
I hope I’ve made you think,
And I hope I’ve made you question,
And if I have not, I’ve hopelessly failed my own pretension.

Daisy May, dear Daisy May,
Always sweet as apple pie.
She never seemed to frown,
And would never harm a fly.
Under her spell, the boys would fall
At the bat of just one eye.

Straight A’s in school,
Never broke a rule.
Her parents can’t complain.
Bright blue eyes, and flowing hair,
And a smile as convincing as a dare.
But alone she sits at lunch,
And alone she is all day.
This is the sad story
Of the girl named Daisy May.

Under a mask, she did hide
Every part of her that did not abide,
With her fake facade of content and glee,
And everything she did not want to be.
She hated how alone she felt.
She hated how she looked.
She hated how she could memorize every word inside a book,
But the one thing that she wanted was too far outside her nook.
Everything came to easy to Daisy May,
But her plastic shell was slowly cracking,
As she pretended everyday.

She was always praised for her work,
But all she wanted was a friend.
And in the end nothing matters,
Not grades, awards or anything she read.
“Daisy May has Run Away” all the local papers said.
But after this point, no one ever mentioned her again.

No one cared to look for her,
And no one ever would.
She had tried with all her might,
She tried as hard she could.
To hid behind a pen, behind a book, behind a smile.
But that plastic grin could only last for such a little while.

Ten years later, in a tree, near the outskirts of the town,
Some kids found a journal that was worn and beaten down.
The pages were filled with lists and doodles, with poems and fears,
Every page stained so deep, as if it had been cried in for years.
On the very last page, in deep red ink,
A rhyme was written, so potent the words seemed to stink:
“Daisy May is Dead.
She’s hanging from a thread.
All I ever wanted was a friend.”

They never did find the corpse of Daisy May,
But some say she still haunts the tree,
Where she sat alone,
Shed her mask and cried in secret,
Each and every day.

I didn’t find a lucky penny
So I flipped it over for someone else to find.
And then I turned the corner and dropped a dime
Just in time
For a little boy to pick it up and yell
“hey mom, I found a dime!”
And I couldn’t help but smile
As the little boy’s hand slid to his pocket
But he didn’t drop the dime inside.
He held it inside his pocket
And would not let go.
Because to that little boy,
That dime was the most money he had ever known.
It could buy him some shoes, a ball, or even a car.
Because money is just money when you’re little
And even a dime can take you so very far.
I hope his mother won’t spoil his fun
And just let his imagination run.
He turned another corner and was gone.
On my way to the store that day
I also dropped a dollar,
Just so someone could end their day
with “I guess today was okay”.
In the end I made it home
With nothing in my pockets,
Just a pencil and a stone.
I never found a lucky penny
But I left plenty for the crowds.
I had no money,
But I was happy
From all the smiles and the shouts.
I’d turn my dollars into quarters,
and quarters into dimes
And those into pennies,
Just so I could leave you something to find.
So next time you find a lucky penny
Please think of me,
And how I have nothing but I am happy.

“I’m happy”, she lied
And she forced that practiced smile,
She’s been perfecting for a while.
Sometime the girl that smiles,
Is only trying to hide her tears.
An inevitable flood,
Suppressed for years.
Pressure behind her eyes builds,
But eventually,
It has to spill.
She seems confident and strong,
But only sleep consoles her tears.
She’s become an expert at lying,
She’s been doing it for years.
Her dreams play out behind closed eyes,
But Happiness she never finds.
Building walls instead of bridges,
She tried to keep herself inside.
Only letting in what was easy,
But it’s not easy to hide.
This girl was smart,
She knew just what to say,
To make everyone happy,
And her mother’s worries at bay.
Just because she comes off strong
Doesn’t mean that she’s not crying.  
And even though she acts like nothing is wrong,
Maybe she’s really good at lying.
This is her life.
And everyday feels like a test.
Trust me, I know,
Cause I’m the girl who’s a mess.

Something terrible has taken god,
I can’t seem to find him anymore.
I lost my joy.
I’ve lost all hope.
And all my love is gone.
Where is his mercy,
Where are his arms,
Why should I sing to a god,
Who can’t keep his chosen people out of harm.
My eyes are cold.
My heart is stone.
This is how I’ve condemned myself to be.
My feet are numb.
My mother’s gone.
And smoke is all I see.
I used to sit up on a hill
And talk to god about the sky.
I’d tell him how my day went,
And thank him for my life.
But now I curse his very name
The sky is scowling with gray clouds of smoke.
How can a god to loves his child,
Do this to whom’s very existence he spoke.
His turned us into vessels,
We are just an empty carcass with a heart,
We have a brain, we our stomaches
But our souls chose to depart.
I looked up at my father,
Whom i’ve looked up to all my life,
I searched for a smile in his sorrow
But all I saw was tears in his eyes.
Surely there must be a god,
Though I see he’s not with me.
How can a got who loves his children,
Be content with what he sees?
And surely he must be content,
For if he disagreed
I know that he could send someone
Who could certainty set us free.
I guess this means he does not love
As much as I once thought.
Or maybe I was simply blind,
To if there is a god or not.

Even when we fight,
Never forget to kiss me goodnight.

Words on the the walls of a subway train
Safe from weather, safe from rain
Locked inside, no need to hide
Anonymous thoughts from a sullen mind
Anonymous feelings from a girl that’s a freak
Anonymous heart of a man who’s meek
Anonymous cries from a mother who grieves
Anonymous scribbles from a boy who can’t even read
Void of context, and missing a name
What’s written here has not been tamed
An open book with pages never to fill
Clandestine catharsis, the panacea pill

She drew a breath and let it go as she crept closer to the edge. She shivered as her toes, painted pink, hugged the ledge.  She brushed a trespassing orange hair from her brow and and stretched her arms to the sky.  Took one final breath as she closed her eyes.  She leapt.  Pushed her heels into the ground. Then the pads of her toes.  The tips of her toes.  She extended her arms and flew.  And as the world whizzed past in vibrant blacks and grays, the ground below her exploded into detail.  It was amazing.  Beautiful.  The memories of her past were far from her mind, everything terrible shut behind the blinds.  The ground rose up to meet her and caressed her cheek.  She regained her senses for only a moment and her green eyes flashed a smile.  She opened her hands and pressed her fingers to the cool concrete and as a chill ran through her veins.  The corners of her perfectly red lips pulled into a gentle smile, and she was happy.  Her eyelids fluttered and then laid motionless above her freckled cheeks.  She faded as she melted into the ground.----- Her nose twitched and wrinkled to the singe of winter’s chill and the smell of hospital food.  She awoke, eyes closed, to the rhythmic chirp of an EKG machine.  She ran her hand up her arm and felt the IV and needles.  She slowly came out of unconsciousness and felt pain and then her mothers fingers entwined between hers.  She knew it was her.  She knew the shape of her hands well.  Every curve and wrinkle, the indent from where her mother’s wedding ring once sat for so long, but not anymore.  She felt the hands that had held her for sixteen years.  Her eyes slowly flicked open and she found the flustered but relieved visage of her mother. The girl shut her eyes, quick.  Hoping they would never open again.

As I descend the stairs at night
The pictures come alive
In my mind
And the creatures in my head
Crawl from behind the blinds
And shrink across the floor
And materialize through doors
And the paintings on the walls
The little boys and girls creep out
But their smiling faces
Have been left behind in the world
Of which they just hopped out.
All the the movies and stories that I’ve read
The scary ones that one should never read in bed
Play out before my eyes
In my mind
But the mind is more powerful in the dark of night
And what would normally stay inside my head
Now is just as tangible as that being said.
Mirrors and windows and dark little corners
And cupboards and closets, the air slightly warmer.
I’d close my eyes
But it only gets worse
Because the pictures in my head
Just grow and they seem to get larger
They expand and the twist and morph into worse
Than the scariest stories is movies or books
I feel across the wall for a light switch
And I could swear a felt a touch
Oh my gosh i breathe hush brain hush
It was only my cat
But I swear I’ll get him in the morning for that.
Every turn of my head fills me with dread
And every slight noise has me running for the covers of my bed.
My fingers creep across the wall in desperate search of the light
But I hit something unfamiliar
The texture not right
Oh my gosh dad...you put tape over the light?
Now, what am i supposed to do
The other switch on the opposite side of the room?
I take a deep breathe
And with all my speed I dash
And hit the wall with undeniable force
And again scan the wall with my hands to find what I search.
Finally the light flicks on and I let out my breathe
that realize i’ve been holding from I don’t know when since.
Everything that played out in the dark of the night
Has faded away with the replacement of light.
I grab my phone and again hit the light
And dash upstairs with all my might.
Oh my gosh.
I’m alright.

Pat Tat Tat Pat Tat Tat
Rain. Drip. Rain. Drop.
Slowly.
Rhythmic
On the window sill.
Time stood still.
Pat Tat Tat Pat Tat Tat.
Finger drawn across the cool glass.
And then I watched the path I traced melt and fade.
One moment I didn’t want to pass.
Wind rushes in through the cracks.
I pull the blanket closer.
I didn’t breathe.
I couldn’t breathe
I didn’t want this second to slip away from me.
Below, on the sidewalk I see a little boy
With a suitcase so big he has to drag.
Something tells me that’s his only bag.
His father at his side.
But even in the dark,
The worry in his eyes won’t hide.
Even the little boy seems to know the future doesn’t look bright.
Even he knows that things are not right.
Behind them, and out of their view
A woman follows with a little girl who’s missing her shoes.
A worn and torn rabbit dragging behind,
In search of a better life they hope to find.
Rain keeping time.
Like a heart
Thump Thump with mine.
Thump Thump.
Thump Thump.
Thump Thump.
Knock.
I don’t look.
I didn’t need to.
I knew who it was.
And trust me,
I wasn’t answering.
Knock.
Again.
Knock.
The very moment I wanted so desperately to never come,
And I knew it was useless to try to run.
The wind rushed in again and stung my eyes.
Then I turned and saw my baby,
She smiled up at me,
I was happy that at least she couldn’t see.
Thump Thump.
Acceding the stairs.
The men would take my baby away if they found her.
My one chance.
I had no choice but to take.
If only for my baby’s sake.
I pressed my lips to her forehead.
Then swaddled in my sweater
I tucked the bundle under my arm.
She was breathing.
I could feel it.
Her heart was beating
In time with mine.
Her heart was beating
In time with mine.

They took us to the trains.
I made it through the line with my baby.
My heart slowed just a little with that slight hope of maybe.
Thump Thump.
I felt her heart beat.
Her heart was beating
In time with mine.
She was fine.
But then my baby cried out,
And the man called me back.
He asked me what I had under my arm.
I didn’t answer.
I knew I didn’t need to.
There was nothing I could do.
He reached out for it.
I couldn’t refuse.
That was last time I felt the thump.
Her heart with mine.

We arrived at this place
Unknown to me.
And I saw a woman whom I knew.
She asked my where my baby was.
“What happened to your baby?”
And I said “What baby?”
“I don’t have a baby”
“I don’t have a baby”

Pat Tat Tat Pat Tat Tat.
The shower filled with gas.

It all began with an explosion,
Some force from outer space.
We don’t know how this all happened
But we know this is the case.
Billions of years upon the making
Churning, burning, spinning fast
The chances so slim for our existence
But that point, I will make last.
There is no god, we all just happened
Please get that through your mind.
It’s all part of nature’s cycle.
Humanity it blind.
The birds.
The trees.
The sky.
The night.
What makes more sense
Is a god who said “Let there be light”.
Explain to me how love evolved,
The beauty of the trees.
How everything is naturally pleasing.
The birds and the bees.
No animal loves the way we do,
And yet we see no proof?
There is no gene for jealousy or lust
And still humanity’s aloof.
My belief in god
Does not hang on numbers or in books.
My belief in god
Is found in all the crannies and the nooks.
The beauty!
The beauty!
Explain to me the beauty
Of the sunset,
Of the grass,
Of the person you love.
How can you look at them
And still believe there’s nothing above?
All just a collection of organized chaos and parts
Passed down through careful selection void of divine art.
How do we know what’s right, what’s wrong?
You cannot rationalize that our consciences just came along.
I don’t rely on science or math to tell me what is fact.
I only can speak of what I feel, and how I choose to act.
I don’t know exactly what is out there, or what religion is true.
But I know that there’s more out there than just me and you.
If you believe there is no god,
There is no wrong or right.
So do what you want,
Nothing matters, its alright.
We are nothing but random chemicals,
Thrown together at some time on some night.
And somehow,
Through luck,
By chance,
By fate,
Everything was beautiful.
Everything was beautiful.

We think that a dream takes us from reality
But what if we are wrong.
If the dream is what is real
And so called reality is wrong?
What if waking up is falling in
And being consumed by what’s within?

Or what if neither here nor there in anything substantial?
Because in this life or in a dream
Their paths of cross are not so able.
When you are in a dream only snippets of reality are recalled
And in real life we seldom remember our dream
We only remember waking up when we fall.

What if both worlds are just as real
Just so different they can’t cross.
If waking up is falling into a world that would otherwise be lost?
What if falling asleep is falling out of one world and into the next?
What if on the other side of your subconscious
A completely separate life exists?

But the worlds of dream and this
Contradict what each says is true.
In this dream or this reality
This seems like nothing new.

In a dream it does make sense
Though when we come out of falling in
We realize that it must have been a dream
Because those dreams just could not have been.
But when you dream you say that “reality” is false
You ignore the laws of so-called life
And live in the world that you are currently brought.

What if waking up is falling in
To your other side of life.
What if falling out is closing your eyes,
And showing up in what is right?

I’m so unsure and so confused
I honestly have never been so torn between what to choose
What if the right one for me was you
And you’re the one I was most scared to loose
And that’s the honest truth

Something was different about you
And it’s not something I can explain
It’s not one thing
Not a list with traits I can to pick and choose
It’s just you
Only you

My chest is heavy and my eyes are blurry
Cause my head says go but my heart knows to worry
That I should have chosen you
And I don’t know why I do what I do
But I had that moment to choose
And I didn’t choose you.

You held me when I cried
You put your hands on my sides
And you always knew the words to make me smile
You didn’t even try
And thats why I fell for you
Just you
Only you.

When I was with you,
You were you
And I was me
And somehow it was perfect harmony
But I picked him cause he was new
But I’m still not sure that was the right thing to do

I just need time to unblur the thoughts in my head
So I can decide what needs to be done and said
But you’re right,
You’re only you.
Just you.
Only you.
And please never change.
Cause I love everything you do.
Just you.
Only you.

I sleep to dream
I dream to sleep,
A never ending cycle of rest and peace.

Sleep must heal the heart.
Sleep must clear the mind.
So many things, I’m glad, disappear
After my hands close the blinds.

Now I write my own stories.
Escape from reality.
The pen in my hand,
Endless possibility.

When nothing is real,
When it’s all in my head.
Mistakes don’t matter,
Because I’ll always wake up safe in my bed.

I sleep to dream
I dream to sleep,
A never ending cycle of rest and peace.
A never ending cycle of rest and peace.

I left a letter.
Slipped it under the door.
I did not knock,
and I was careful to slip away
as I moved across the floor.

I knew I should have stopped,
I knew I should have turned around.
But my thumping heart
Drown out all the other sounds.
I’d thought about it so many times before,
How I should not be here on this porch
But something pulled me on
Like bugs toward a torch.
Lured toward their death
By attraction that has been wired
Into their system.
Their life soon to retire.

Every tinge of reason, silenced.
Every speck of logic, purged.
Every ****** of vindication
Has been suppressed within my nerves.
The writer has warned that if the note is not passed,
A public copy will be released,
And our next breath will be our last.

They didn’t need the burden that I know brought
The strain of pain and worry that the letter wrought.
I hardly knew these people,
In fact, we’ve never met.
I’ve only heard about them
From the letter I just sent.
Passed on from hand to hand
A secret to disclose
From the privet thoughts
Of a dead girl’s private notes.

Each of us part of her story that we will be told
Each of us not knowing what role we play in the letter we unfold.
No return address or name,
Other than your own.
But once you read the letter,
The sender you will know.
She tells us how each of us has lead to her demise.
How we’ve tainted her reputation with our actions and our lies.

The news will pass from hand to hand in the order they were wrote
By the pen of the deceased who, with purpose, scrawled this note.
Who knew such a simple act could snowball into harm,
That would lead a girl to swallow pills and cut into her arm.

A ship in its harbor is always safe,
But that’s not why ships are built.
Ships exist to carry passengers
And wobble through ocean’s stilts.
She is not built to never leave
Or face a dangerous trip.
It’s made to face the roaring seas
Even if her frame will rip.
At least she had a story,
At least she lived her life.
At least she saw the world
And lived with confidence and strife.
Ships are made to be used
And their underbellies torn.
It’s holes to be patched
And wooden body worn.
But without wounds it would just sit.
Useless and rotting bit by bit.
Withering away until her maker tears her up
Or gives her away to simply fill his cup.
A boat whom never sees the war
Can never say she’s tried.
A boat who’s never held the wounded,
Can never say she’s cried.
And a boat who’s never lived a life
Can never say she’ll die.

Something so unreal it has to be a dream.
Something so logical, I know that it’s not.
Something I’m so sure of now,
And thus have no choice but to question.

I know I should run,
Run and never look back.
But as soon as I’ve left the door,
As soon as the quarter totters between heads and tails,
I will know I’ve made a mistake.
Or I will know I have not.

No matter, it will be too late.

But if the door is never touched,
I will never leave.
I will never see objectively.
Forever swept up,
Forever locked up,
Forever so sure of him and me.
“Welcome to the game of life,” says he.

Every nerve in my body was withering in,
Away from my fingers and toes.
Numb because I have to be.
Numb because I don’t want to know.
Please, please I know that I asked,
But if i’d known it was this, i’d have stayed out of your past.
There is a reason that thoughts are safe in your head
But now that I know my heart sinks like lead.
Now that I know, I don’t want to know.

I am oh so very frustrated,
Every time that I pray.
I hope so hard there is a god,
I’ve convinced myself there must be a way.

This life I life cannot be the end.
I cannot live deprived of plans,
Crafted and mulled over in my creator’s mighty hands.
I need to have a purpose.
I don’t want to live for just a life.
And what’s the point
In pressing on for just worldly strife?

If no god exists,
Then when I die,
I’m neither here nor anywhere,
Indefinitely interred in the earth.
My condemnation record bare.

If there is no god above,
There is no wrong or right.
There is no sadness in a death,
If all there is, is day and night.

When I close my eyes and cry,
It’s not because I pray.
It’s my hands clasped in desperate frustration,
Hoping that I will find my god someday.

I thought of you today,
Something I’ve done for quite a while,
And how when I looked into your eyes,
You couldn’t help but smile.
I’d ask you why you were so happy,
Your dimples, they would grow.
And you never did answer,
You just said that I should know.
I’d glide my hand lightly down your cheek,
And tell you you were terrible,
For making me guess the things you think.
“Oh be quiet,” you’d whisper with a smile,
And you were right,
I knew exactly what you were thinking all the while.
And In your arms I’d melt and and never leave,
Everything about you was exactly perfect,
The missing piece of me.
I thought of you today,
Every moment we were one,
Every passion and emotion,
But now the time has come.
We are not the same people we had swore.
Once in love, but now, no more.

A barren road,
Clandestine place.
The path unwalked,
Sand undisplaced.
The final destination,
The route unpaved,
The end location,
Travelers be brave.
No light.
No pavement.
No lingering sounds from a nearby city.
Just a heart that pounds.

Another mistake.
One look.
A smile.
I felt loved,
For the first time in a while.
He kissed my lips,
My forehead,
My ear.
Calm down, I told myself,
Stop shaking in fear.
This time he really means it,
I pushed the obvious truth away,
I couldn’t let myself think that way.
Maybe this time,
Maybe this time I’ve finally gotten it right.
But yet again,
My foolishness blurred by usually rational sight.
I wanted so bad for this boy to be different,
I wanted it so much that everything he did
I only misconstrued again and again,
To fit how I wanted it to seem,
To fit how I wanted everything to be.
I thought he felt the same way I did,
But of course, I was only just another girl to him.
I promised myself, last time, that I wouldn’t make this mistake again.

I tried to paint you a picture,
But the colors were all wrong.
Blatant honesty,
And now you’re gone.
When I figure everything out,
I’ll let you know,
But until then,
All you and I can do is let the future unfold.
I don’t know what I want,
But I don’t want this.
I think I’ve lost a best friend,
And it all started with a kiss.

All you touch and all you see
Is all your world will ever be.
But who knows if this is all a dream?
A figment of some higher dreamer’s dream.
But if we are all just a dream,
Do we not all still exist?
In this world that we are in
We can feel and think and touch,
And so even if none of us exists
Could this still be enough.
We think the choices that we make
Are things that we have picked.
But in the end it doesn’t matter,
Because we think, what we think.
But if my thoughts,
If they are not mine,
But from someone else’s dreaming mind.
Honestly, I do not care.
Because if I do not exist,
What I think is real isn’t even there.
If no choice is my own,
And nothing here is real.
Nothing matters in the end,
If nothing in this life is real.
But all they touch and all they see,
Is all their world will ever be.
And what if this is my dream?
If you and you and you.
Are some strange combination
Of some people that I knew
In a life that is outside this dream,
A never ending dreamer’s dream.
Because when you are within a dream,
Everything makes sense,
To the dreamingly so conscience mind
Nothing is false pretense.
All I touch and all I see,
Is all my world will ever be.
What if this is your dream?
What if you are really lying in bed,
And everything that is and has happened is all inside your head?
What if the past as you know it,
Is all just fabricated,
And ingeniously and subconsciously innovated
To fit what I just stated.
But if its so,
And this is all just an act,
Put on by your sleeping mind,
How am I to act?
That is not up to me, you see,
If this dream is yours.
You are the one who determines my words,
And decided who next will open up that door.
If this dream is yours,
I only one request.
Please, please,
Make the teacher cancel our next test.