Sometimes I'm not sure if I'm asleep or awake,

My dreams are real and reality is fake.

What I think is real might be wrong,

Perhaps I've been deceived all along.

Maybe I'll wake up if this is a dream,

And realize that nothing is how it once seemed.

There are times when I just feel-

Like nothing in my life is real.

Perhaps I'll wake up after I die-

And see that my whole life was a lie.

Maybe not even reality is real,

Sometimes it seems abstract and surreal.

My life is terrible, too awful to be true,

So can it be real? I wish I knew.

This surreal life I can't escape,

What if I'm not even awake?

My whole life could be a dream,

Trapped in my mind, reality unseen.

If my life is a dream, don't wake me yet.

I want to live a life I'll never forget.

She was the charming of them all
and to protect her flaws
She grew claws
in her stem.

Keeping away from anyone
who dares to pluck her off the garden,

But He plucked her by the petals
twisting her head out,
brutally.

~

Passion sings
on blue note pillows,
down filled ecstasy
midst satin linens
stealing midnight
in each others arms
falling satisfied
past lilac dreams
and calla lily shadows
floating above
slumbering affection
of two hearts
made for each other
peacefully awaiting
that first kiss
of the new day
when passion will
*sing once again

She feels his waves lap up her. Her boat rocks side to side
He knows he's wasting his time. He can't force the pride to slide

The months they feel like years. Her timing has always been off
The flame he carries inside him burns the gas she won't turn off.

She kids herself into thinking that she's better off where she is
He rarely gets closer than arms length. Cos she likes him where he is.

She knows that she could be happier. But comfort wins for now
But he tells her the same, there's a name for this game but he can't recall it right now.

He goes out with his heart locked up and the key she keeps in her purse
Guess she didn't know she had it but he hid it somewhere in this verse

Fearful of the consequences of his affections

If he's not at work, he's thinking of the things he might have said
To some how keep her from slinking into another mans bed.

So he waits upon her shore. He stands here every day
His throat is getting sore from trying to scream the clouds away

But he doesn't see the rain, creep up behind his back
Each poison drop could **** his crop and leave his scorched earth black.

She throws around her colours once more and grey gives way to blue.