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Mar 8
I dream in morphine,
scream for the guillotine,
as the unforeseen seems too obscene.

I dream extreme,
fire in my bloodstream,
too headstrong to belong.

I dream for sunbeams,
to quiet the melancholic theme,
punishment it seems.

I dream for moonbeams,
a healing grace upon my face,
a mother’s gentle embrace.

I dream for peace,
a place among the human race,
without my diseaseful anguish.

I dream to be seen,
for who I am and not my defeat,
a need to please but feel at ease.
Written by
Lot  18/F/Toronto
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