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Mar 2019
I dreamt of a girl
in a fireplace.
Curled inside
its cold recess,
she slept the sleep
of the innocent
while I stood outside,
powerless.
But the flames
wouldn't spark
and the girl slept on,
fetus-like.
Perhaps she dreamed
of a birthday cake
or of a woman watching
the darkness at play.
Perhaps she was the smoke
poured from my addled brain.

For there are times it
seems too sick a fate
to be a parent on
this cold, dark stage.
Where every lick
of what if
dances nearer upon
this matchstick life..
Written by
Savage  122/M/Nottingham
(122/M/Nottingham)   
  183
 
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