When the giant sleeps
he lays dormant, never to be heard.

He sleeps like a baby but breaths like a lion through the caves as it echoes.
But to the surprise of those glaring,
waiting for a beast to emerge from
this,
never seen reputation he has built.

'Tis only the gentle touch of his hand
that gave him his second reputation.

A soft one, a push over - but ha, I laugh in the face of unlaughable emotions, kind notions and love potions.

But that's just not me is it...?

I said to the wall in front of me
I needed to pass but,
to my amazement,
I could never even see,
a wall, a mere
mirage to the retinas deception.

But I question why I ever mention,
my thoughts and perceptions
like the worlds in one convention.

Despite being mouth to horse -
I always got stared at,
trampled down and taken for.

Ironically I'd say for granted,
but I'm left stranded, demanded around then commanded - like this sleeve hadn't already,
seen the washing powder one too many times.

All the lost faded faces I left on my brain,
all the sleepless nights,
I thought my help could turn me insane,
But as the day repeats,
I'm thinking... "Not this Again"
Not another sleepless night,
Just waiting the next day.

But at least I know
before I take my final breath,
It was all just a test,
until death,
And I don't live a day,
with a shard of regret.