There inlaid was a nightmare a filler of dark, of cold the boy dreamt alone and sought nothing but sleep but in that sleep what dreams came were not what he asked for
Not at all
There inlaid was a terror a fear of stark, of utter horror the boy knew what was coming and sought nothing but to stay awake and in that wakefulness what thoughts could come were not what he wanted
Not at all
There inlaid was a sorrow a chestpain so deep, so undying the boy knew what was true but wanted nothing but for it to be a lie and in that cringe a revelation came that was not what he expected
Not at all
There inlaid was a fantasy with wings so broad, so full the boy knew that here he could win every battle and take every stride and in those clouds he would never fall or falter
Never, not at all
So after each nightmare and wakeful terror whenever he would cringe for pains and hearts never stolen the boy allowed himself to find false strength in a fantasy perhaps but reality enough for him to stay himself, a boy and so in that thoughtless space where he always found bright clouds as opposed to the dreams and thoughts inside and around him where there were only shadows